Servant of Death
by lilyevansJan30
Summary: The Final Battle is over, but Voldemort is only mostly gone. Harry's still a Horcrux and he's going to find a way to get it out of him or die trying. But letting Harry die is something Ginny refuses to do.
1. One

A/N: Here is the first chapter of an entirely new story. It's been battering around in my brain and I finally decided I had to write it. About halfway through Charming Ginny, I realized I'd made a mistake not being more up front about what effects the charm had on Ginny and those around her. This time, I'm giving you most of the basic information up front. I intend to make this really a story about Harry and Ginny and an impossible situation. Yes, it will be quite sexy in spots. My working title is "Yer a Horcrux, Harry", but I'm really calling it Servant of Death.

Harry was angry, really, really angry. Ron had seen Harry upset before, had even seen him throw something of a tantrum or two, like that summer at Grimmauld Place before their Fifth Year, but this was different.

First off, the target of Harry's anger was Hermione. This was unusual; Harry didn't tend to get mad at her. Annoyed or frustrated sometimes, yes, but never really mad. He had always been able to simply roll his eyes at her more _Hermione-ish_ behaviors and then move on, ignoring the study schedules, the SPEW buttons, even the few tactical errors she had made during the Horcrux hunt. He was much better at letting those things slide than Ron was.

Harry's voice interrupted Ron's thoughts.

"How the hell did you not think they were important, Hermione? Please, try to explain to me again why you didn't bother to give them to me right then when you collected them, when it might have done some good?" Harry was pacing around their old Charms classroom; blasting away any of the desks that hadn't been destroyed during the battle.

"I didn't think . . ." Hermione's voice was hesitant and whatever else she'd been about to say was drowned out by Harry's continued rant.

"You didn't _think? _Holy shit, Hermione, almost seven years I've known you, and the only useful thing you've ever done is _think_. And now, when my life depends on it, you suddenly don't?"

That was unfair, and Ron needed to say so. He jumped up. "Harry, come on, mate. She didn't know. None of us did." He walked over to Hermione and tentatively put his arm around her, conjuring a handkerchief to wipe away her tears. He glared at Harry. "Snape was already dead when we got there, remember? No way to tell us to hey, 'show these thoughts to Harry right now, they're super important for his fight against Voldemort.'" Ron huffed. "For all we know, you might have ignored him, even if he'd been able to tell you." He absently kissed Hermione's hair. "And if we'd gotten there two minutes later, it would've been too late anyway. The thoughts would have already disappeared and Hermione wouldn't have been able to gather them at all, and you would be in the exact same place. Or worse, probably." Ron gestured to the Pensieve Harry had brought from the headmaster's office, still glowing dully on Flitwick's desk. "At least we got the see them . . . eventually. So we can understand what we're up against."

Harry's jaw tightened, and Ron knew his words had penetrated, but Harry wasn't ready to recognize that yet. He stopped his pacing in front of Ginny and buried his face in her neck. She wrapped her arms around him, and Ron could see the stricken look on her face behind the dirt and tears. "What the fuck am I going to do?" he mumbled. "This was supposed to finish it."

"I don't know," she said. Ron saw her arms tighten around Harry's back. "But whatever it is, I'm doing it with you. You aren't going to be alone." Her voice was fierce.

"Me too, Harry." Hermione had stopped crying and was looking at him. "I'll do absolutely anything I can to help . . . to fix this." Her voice wavered. "If . . . if you'll let me."

Harry raised his head. Ron could see that the fire in his eyes was gone, and he responded in an uncharacteristically formal voice. "I know you will, Hermione, thank you." He sagged in resignation. "We'll just have to . . . figure something else out."

"And we will," said Ginny in that same, fierce voice. Harry turned to her.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Really okay?" He brushed a hand across a bruise on Ginny's cheek. "I couldn't really see how it happened, at the end. He didn't touch you, did he?"

Ginny shook her head in an impatient gesture Ron recognized from his many years as Ginny's brother. "I'm fine, Harry. You're the one who threw himself in front of the fucking _Avada Kedavra_ for me." She shook her head, and a note of pain crept into her voice. "What were you thinking?"

"That I'm in love with you, Ginny." Harry's words were soft, probably only meant for her, but Ron heard them anyway. "I couldn't let you die." He leaned down and kissed her. Ginny kissed him back; she put her hand on the back of Harry's neck and pulled him closer to her, lips moving desperately. Ron was reminded of Harry's words to him earlier, when he and Hermione had kissed after retrieving the Basilisk fangs. _Is this the time?_

Ron shrugged and turned towards Hermione. "I guess they're entitled; I just don't really want to see it," he said.

Hermione nodded. "I'm going to figure this out," she said quietly. I owe it to him."

Ron personally disagreed that anyone _owed_ anything to anyone else at this point, but now was not the time to keep talking; Ron could see that Harry was swaying with exhaustion and the rest of them weren't much better. Harry and Ginny stopped kissing, and when Ginny's face crumpled, Ron knew that Fred's death had just come rushing back to her from wherever it had been hiding. He shook his head, his brother at the top of the long list of things Ron wasn' ready to think about yet. He took Hermione's hand.

"I need . . . I mean, we need, to find mum and dad and the rest," he said. He looked at Ginny and Harry. Whatever uncertainty had existed between the two of them before the battle had been irrevocably swept away when Harry had jumped in front of the killing curse meant for Ginny and then she'd returned the favor by finishing off Voldemort herself while Harry had been . . . dead, apparently. Ron still couldn't get his head around the sound of the _Avada Kedavra_ coming out of his sister's mouth as she stood over Harry's lifeless body. His mum doing it to Bellatrix made sense, but Ginny was another thing entirely.

"We need to be with George," Ginny agreed. She didn't let go of Harry and it was obvious he would be coming too. Ron thought that was appropriate; Harry, not surprisingly, looked unsure. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't, Harry," said Ginny sharply. She spoke in a voice that boded no argument but ran her hand down Harry's cheek at the same time. "You know they wouldn't let you stay away anyway."

As Ron watched, Harry nodded and leaned into his sister. "Thank you," he said simply. Ginny's eyes softened.

"I'm taking you to Gryffindor Tower," she said. "Everyone's there," she added. Ron didn't ask how she knew; the events of the last hours were a jumbled mess.

They were almost out the door when Harry put up his hand.

"Wait," he said, and his voice sounded hoarse and shaky. "Before . . . before we see everyone." He took a deep breath. "I don't think anyone else should know," he said.

"About anything?" Ron asked. Personally, he thought that maybe they'd need help with this, but now was not the time to say so. Harry nodded firmly.

"About the fact that I'm a Horcrux or that Voldemort may not really be dead," he said. "Or that I talked to Dumbledore while I was . . . gone. We don't need to cause panic while we figure things out."

"We may need some help eventually," said Ginny quietly. Ron was glad she'd said it.

Harry nodded. "I know. But just not . . . yet," he said. "I need to figure some things out first."

Hermione finally spoke up. "We need to do something with all that, then," she said, pointing to the Pensieve and empty vial lying next to it. Snape's memories still swirled around inside the bowl, although Ron doubted anyone would be looking at them again. Her voice trembled.

"I'm so sorry, Harry." Ron could hear the tears threaten and he pulled her close. "I should have realized . . . but Snape was already dead. It didn't . . . occur to me that you might need . . . I just took them because they were there."

"I know, Hermione, I'm sorry I yelled." Harry's voice spoke the truth, although his eyes didn't meet hers. "And at least we know what really happened now, right?" He waved his wand and the Pensieve disappeared, likely finding its way back to the headmaster's office.

Ron relaxed a fraction. _At least that's one source of tension gone. Just about a million others left. _He pushed open the door. "Let's go."

HPHPHPHPHP

Harry didn't speak all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, glad for the excuse of exhaustion to ignore everything around him except the feel of Ginny's hand, leading him. If they passed anyone else on the way, Harry didn't know it. His thoughts swirled uncomfortably, but even they couldn't pierce the haze of not sleeping for nearly two days. It was with dull surprise that he felt Ginny tugging him through the portrait hole much sooner than he expected, and the roar of voices that greeted them didn't register at first.

And then he was enveloped in a soft embrace that could be no one else but Molly Weasley, and the blur of movement and noise and red resolved itself into the rest of Ginny's family. Ginny's hand slipped out of his as she was similarly hugged and celebrated and questioned, and the loss of contact was jarring. Harry took a deep breath. He forced away the numbing exhaustion, forced himself to find some semblance of consciousness for the only people to whom he'd give it right now. It was with no small measure of relief that Harry was finally released enough to sit, heavily, on one of the common room sofas. Ginny was next to him, whispering in his ear to _just give them a few minutes_, and Harry bit the inside of his cheek, using the pain to keep himself awake. He nodded, and then said the words he knew he had to, before any else could talk about Harry's actions instead.

"I'm so sorry. About Fred." The words sounded sluggish and inadequate. Harry wanted to say more, to apologize for not figuring things out sooner, for not giving himself up at the start. He looked blearily from face to face, finding landing on George. He shook his head at Harry.

"Don't," he said harshly. "I know what you're thinking, and just . . . don't."

"But," Harry began, unsure of what he even meant to say. George raised his hand. "I'll let you prostrate yourself before the shop later on if it makes you feel better, but don't ever expect me to accept an apology _you don't need to make."_ The words were blunt, and conveyed a mountain of pain behind them.

"I watched you take the killing curse for my sister, Harry. I suspect you've done other things nearly as reckless for her. For all of us, probably. "George gestured around at his family. "And probably others too, the entire fucking wizard community, even those who don't know it or wouldn't understand." George's voice was bitter. "But you did it anyway, not for fame or glory, but just because it was the right thing to do."

Harry started to speak, but George held up his hand. "And yes, some . . . some died," he said, more quietly. "And we're going to . . . to miss them, to more than miss them, forever." George swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "But a lot lived too. Because of you."

His words exhausted, George sunk into silence.

The rest of the Weasleys were looking at him and Harry could tell they agreed with George. He didn't know what to say to explain to them just how much his actions had been pre-determined for him. He was just barely coming to understand it himself.

_It's not just that it was the right thing to do, I didn't actually have a choice._

Those last images from the Pensieve assaulted him; Dumbledore telling Snape that Harry carried a piece of Voldemort's soul inside of him, that Harry must willingly face the Killing Curse, that Voldemort must be the one to cast it. And most importantly, that doing so was the only way to finally and absolutely kill the dark wizard. He shook his head. He couldn't tell anyone else – not even the Weasleys; it had to stay with him and Ginny and Ron and Hermione. Harry couldn't imagine the crazed panic that might erupt if the wider world knew that Voldemort was not actually dead. There were Death Eaters, and their sympathizers, on the loose, any of whom might relish the chance to bring back their lord. No, that bit of information had to remain a secret, at least until they had a plan. He shook his head anyway.

"It's what any of you would have done," he mumbled. "You've all been helping too, this year." He looked at Molly. "You killed Bellatrix; that saved a lot of people."

"And you saved my daughter," Molly said fiercely. "You . . . did what your mum did for you. For my daughter." Her voice broke and she looked about to rush across the room to where Harry and Ginny sat. Bill's voice interrupted.

"You're not dead, though," he said. "How is it that you aren't dead?" Harry could hear the curiosity in Bill's question; his curse-breaker's mind was churning through the possibilities of Harry's survival.

Harry couldn't reveal much; like the fact of Voldemort's continued existence, his role as a container for a piece of Voldemort's soul, or even his conversation with Dumbledore in that place in-between that looked a lot like King's Cross station. Harry wasn't sure he was ready to examine the uncharacteristic despair in his former headmaster's voice when he found Harry and explained what was supposed to have happened. But then the common room slipped away and Harry couldn't help but remember.

"_Harry, Harry, is that you?" Dumbledore sounded more frantic than Harry had ever heard him before. It was disquieting to hear. The man striding toward Harry through the mist had two unblemished hands and looked somewhat younger and more vibrant than when Harry had last seen him, just before being blasted to his death off the Astronomy Tower. The man's face was serious, and Harry felt a strange prickle of fear._

"_Am I dead? He certainly expected he must be; Voldemort's Killing Curse had hit him right in the chest, almost in the exact place the scar from wearing the locket Horcrux still stained his chest. He looked suddenly around, half expecting to see Ginny running towards him, for certainly Voldemort would have turned his wand on her next. _

"_She not here," said Dumbledore, guessing his thoughts, Indeed, she is battling quite valiantly even as we speak here. Your death lit quite a fire in her."_

"_So I am dead," Harry said. "Voldemort killed me, and my mum's protection was not enough to save me this time because . . . because . . . Voldemort used my blood to resurrect himself. Right?_

"_Well, yes and no," said Dumbledore, sounding a bit more like himself. "It's true that your mum's protection is not enough to save you a second time because Voldemort now has some of that protection inside him, but at the same time, that very blood tethers you to life. The man looked sad. "You are free to return, if you wish._

_Hope swelled within Harry. "But that's a good thing, Isn't it?"_

_Dumbledore nodded. "It is. But . . . am I correct that you never spoke to Professor Snape tonight, before you saved Miss Weasley by taking Voldemort's killing curse for her?'_

"_Snape? No, Snape's dead," said Harry. "We found his body. It looked like Nagini had just killed him; his body was still warm."_

_Dumbldore rubbed at his eyes behind his half-moon glasses. "This is a . . . complication I did not anticipate."_

_Harry was confused. "Why? The man was a traitor – he killed you for Merlin's sake!"_

_But Dumbledore shook his head. "Severus had certain information that you needed to have, before your final confrontation with Voldemort. Your failure to walk willingly to your death - as opposed to taking the instinctive actions that saved Miss Weasley's life - has repercussions that will make your task ahead trickier. Had he been able to deliver the information to you, you would have learned just how loyal Professor Snape actually was to me. And to you."_

_And Harry listened in horror as Dumbledore explained what had been lost when Snape was killed. The rarest of rare, that human Horcrux that forged a connection between Harry and Voldemort , had needed a knowing sacrifice to be destroyed. And one had not been forthcoming._

_With this final, horrible knowledge. Harry nevertheless let himself return to the Final Battle, waking up just in time to see Ginny, her face streaked with tears of sorrow and anger, scream the Avada Kedavra and send a jet of green light right at Voldemort's chest. _

Harry shook off the memory of that moment, and of the many crowded and exhausting ones afterwards, and came back to the common room and Bill's question. He shrugged. "I guess it's something related to the reason I survived as baby; we may never know for sure." Bill did not look satisfied with that answer and started to open his mouth, but Fleur put her arm around him and whispered something that sounded like _not now, _and Bill grew silent. Harry carefully didn't look at Ron or Hermione or Ginny, who all knew the truth, but leaned more heavily into Ginny, his energy depleted.

There were sleeping bags spread over the floor but Harry could only think of the quiet of his old bed; he hoped it was still upstairs. Without thinking about it, he took Ginny's hand and led her to the staircase, not caring who watched them go.

"Stay with me," he slurred as they climbed the stairs together.

"Of course," she said.

"Need a . . . need a shower," said Harry when they reached the landing to his dormitory. He pointed vaguely at the door to the loo.

"It can wait," assured Ginny. "We're both equally dirty."

Harry wanted to disagree, wanted to wash some of the death and destruction off himself as soon as possible, but he simply didn't have the strength.

He collapsed instead on his old bed - the bed he hadn't seen in nearly year - and was only half aware of Ginny quietly muttering a few wards around them to keep out the noise and light. He felt her curl up next to him and her presence was the final comforting weight Harry needed. But before sleep could finally overtake him, a last horrible thought fell from his lips, and he tightened his arms around Ginny to try to keep it away.

_I'm a Horcrux, Ginny. Voldemort's not dead. What are we going to do?_

With no answer to his question, Harry gave up, falling into a heavy sleep not even penetrated by dreams.


	2. Two

A/N: The first few chapters are going to be a little shorter than normal; I have a lot going on in my real life right now and don't want to delay posting for too long just because I don't have the time to write a few more scenes. Soft M warning for this chapter.

Twelve hours later, the wards around Harry's bed were still up. Now, however, they were being put to use to hide the sight of Harry and Ginny lying there together, pajamas bunched awkwardly around themselves while they snogged.

Harry hadn't meant it to happen, not now. It was unequivocally the wrong time for this particular activity. But once he was rested, cleaned, and fed, and without the haze of hunger and exhaustion to blunt it, his predicament felt even more dire than it had after his conversation with Dumbledore. Getting up would have meant having to face it, not to mention the deaths of those he'd loved and what would undoubtedly be questions and accolades from too many people. Already, two owls and a Patronus had found him in the loo during the thirty minutes he'd spent there finally washing himself of the past three days. The owls – requests for interviews – he ignored. But the Patronus had been from Kingsley, and if there was anyone to whom Harry felt the need to confess about Voldemort and everything else, it was the intelligent, calm, and supremely capable Auror people even now were suggesting as the next Minister for Magic.

But Kingsley could wait. Ginny had returned from her own ablutions with a scrubbed face, a tray of sandwiches, and the news that everyone would leave for the Burrow later that day to prepare for Fred's funeral. Harry held her, and she held him, and when Harry asked if she minded if they hid behind his bed hangings for just a little bit longer, Ginny had agreed without hesitation.

If he tried really hard, Harry could almost pretend they were back in the first days of their relationship, before Dumbledore's death and the Horcrux hunt had changed everything. He contemplated the strip of skin that was visible between the bottom of Ginny's t-shirt and the waistband of her pajamas before reaching out to run his fingers along it as tentatively as he had the first time, over a year earlier. The sounds of shy pleasure Ginny had made then drove him wild, and Harry had had to twist his body to prevent her from feeling his erection.

This time, her sounds were more purposeful, and Harry pushed her t-shirt higher, until he could see the undersides of Ginny's breasts.

"You aren't wearing a bra." Harry skimmed his finger along the soft skin.

Ginny wiggled a bit, pushing herself more firmly against Harry's hand. "Well, I've been sleeping, you know. I don't normally sleep in a bra."

"Uhh, right," stuttered Harry. He moved his hand up. "I guess we've never snogged in the morning before."

"Not after sharing a bed, no," Ginny agreed. She seemed supremely comfortable, and Harry took advantage of the fact that he would not have to contend with hooks and clasps and straps to push her shirt all the way up so that he could attend to all of Ginny's chest at one time.

She gave a contented sigh. "I've missed you, Harry," she said.

That made him stop, and Harry sat back on his heels, subtly adjusting himself as he did so. She noticed, but Harry just couldn't bring himself to care. Caring about Ginny seeing his erection was from a time before, and as much as Harry missed a lot from that time, there was no going back, not really.

"I missed you too," he said earnestly. "And not just . . . all this." He gestured at the space between them. "I've been kind of lost without you this past year." He rubbed his hands over his eyes. "Even if . . . even if things had worked out perfectly yesterday - _had it really only been yesterday? _– I'd need to be with you. And now . . ." Harry stopped. He was pretty sure Ginny understood it, but there was no way he could even begin to think about what challenges lay ahead without her help.

Ginny reached out and pulled Harry back down so that he lay mostly on top of her. He fit his head into the crook of her neck and relaxed into her touch as she ran light fingers up and down his back. "I know," she said quietly. "All that time, wondering where you three were, what kind of trouble you might be facing, what you needed . . . I wasn't prepared for how hard it was for me not to be with you."

Harry twisted his head so that he could see her. "Is that why you did crazy things like try to steal Gryffindor's sword from Snape?"

Ginny shrugged. "We . . . Neville and Luna and I, I mean, we would probably have done that anyway. We couldn't sit back and watch the Carrows and everyone and not do anything to fight them." She snuggled into him. "I knew why I had to stay here, and it was the right choice – the only choice. But that didn't stop me from wishing we were together." She gave a small laugh. "It's a good thing so many of our classes were rubbish; I spent a lot more time trying to figure out elaborate schemes to come find you than I did on my homework."

"That would have been brilliant," Harry said. "And terrible, of course. Ron would have gone spare if you'd shown up."

"I know he left you, for a little while," said Ginny. "Not the details, but I heard Bill and Fleur talking. I can only imagine how Hermione reacted."

Harry chuckled. "I'm not sure what was worse, when he left, or when he came back." He turned onto his side so he could face Ginny properly. "But then he saved my life, and I really do understand a lot more about why he left in the first place. It doesn't ever need to be mentioned again. He can tell you more, if he wants, but it's not my story to share."

"That's right," said Ginny. She had rolled onto her side too, and now reached out and ran her hand down to Harry's hip. He shivered when she stopped, her hand resting only a few inches from his arousal.

Harry didn't breathe. There had certainly been a decent amount of _grinding_ during his Sixth year (the word indelibly etched in his brain after a pointed question from Seamus), but not a lot of touching below the waist. Those seven weeks out of someone else's life had been crowded with hours of getting to know each other, nearly as much of it spent talking as exploring each other physically. They had both been painfully aware of the uncertainty ahead of them, but truthfully, Harry had expected that they would have a little more time. He'd envisioned a summer of journeys to find Horcruxes with Dumbledore, interspersed with trips back to the Burrow and Ginny; the fact that the Headmaster had already known it was not to be that way was a source of betrayal Harry was not yet ready to face.

Ginny's hand moved down.

Harry's hips jerked against her almost of their own accord, and he made a sound that probably would have embarrassed him a year earlier. He looked at Ginny. She was blushing, but the smile on her face was quite satisfied, and she gripped him lightly through the fabric of his pajamas. Harry jerked again.

"I assume this is okay?" she asked, and the amusement in her voice was stronger than the shyness.

"It's wonderful, Ginny," Harry gasped. He forced his brain to work. "I assume it's okay for you too?"

"Mmmhmm," Ginny said. She was moving her hand in a way that made most coherent thoughts fly out of Harry's head. Even without her touching skin, it was still a million times better than anything he did himself, and his climax built rapidly. He rolled onto his back and pushed himself into Ginny's hand, and she rewarded him by grasping more firmly. Harry was only vaguely aware when Ginny shifted to sit up next to him, and when she slipped her second hand below his waistband and stroked a finger along his skin, he came almost immediately. Ginny didn't move her hand away, but carefully pumped and stroked until Harry's body finally stilled. He was still breathing heavily when he opened his eyes and met hers.

The pleased sparkle in them said everything. Harry pushed himself – limbs groaning – into a sitting position facing Ginny and pulled her face to his. "That was brilliant," he said between kisses.

Ginny made a sound of satisfaction. "Just so you know, I've never done that before."

Harry pulled her closer, trying to be mindful of the fact that he'd not yet done a cleaning spell. "Well then, that makes it even more brilliant," he said. He grabbed his wand and banished the mess so he could pull Ginny into his lap. "And I assume it goes without saying that I've never had that done to me, either."

Ginny laughed. "Is it bad of me to admit that I guessed that?" She blushed. "I mean, I knew that you and I hadn't, last year. And I doubted that you and Cho . . ."

"Definitely not," Harry said quickly. They had talked about it a little bit a year ago, but there had been questions Harry hadn't wanted to ask, and he was glad to have the answers now. He moved his hand down to Ginny's waist and fidgeted with her own pajama bottoms. "D'you want . . . I mean, I could . . ." he dipped a finger inside and skimmed it against her hip.

Ginny sucked in a breath. "I do," she said, with no hesitation at all.

But just then, a Patronus – Ron's terrier – dropped down between them, and for a wild minute Harry's heart dropped, thinking that Ron himself could see them. Ginny apparently felt the same, for she squeaked and jumped off Harry's lap while the Patronus began to speak.

"Umm, Harry? Just checking in, mate. Hermione's idea, really. Wanting to make sure you're umm . . . okay. And Ginny? She's okay too? We're waiting for you, whenever you're ready to talk about . . . you know."

The terrier faded away and Harry forced his breathing to slow. He looked at Ginny.

"I guess we should probably . . . another time," she said. Harry could tell the reluctance in her voice was real. He nodded; already they had indulged themselves for too long. He kissed her softly. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I don't think I realized how much I needed this time with you."

Ginny snuggled against him. "Me too," she agreed. "I don't know that we're going to have a lot of it coming up, but we'll figure something out."

"We'll have to," Harry admitted. "Or I'll go crazy, thinking and worrying too much."

Ginny kissed him. "I'm glad you can admit it," she said. "I'll distract you any time you need it."

"What I need could get excessive," Harry said with a small laugh. He sighed. "But now I think we need to go find the others. Ron didn't tell us where he was, did he? I was too busy making sure he wasn't in the room himself to pay attention to the message. Or do you want to see your parents?"

"I should see Mum and Dad," said Ginny. "Ron and Hermione will probably be with them anyway."

Harry nodded, and took down the wards around his bed, half expecting to see his old roommates asleep nearby. The room was empty though, and carried a faint air of disuse that made Harry want to leave as quickly as possible. He grabbed Ginny's hand and didn't look back as they left to go back to the common room.

HPHPHPHPHP

Getting Ron and Hermione alone wasn't easy. As Ginny had predicted, they were sitting with Ginny's family and what looked like the remains of a mostly uneaten breakfast when Harry and Ginny came downstairs. The quiet hum of conversation that had greeted them stopped almost completely, and Harry knew that they had likely been discussing him.

"There you two are! Feeling better, Harry? You look a sight better; both of you, actually. Okay there, Ginny?" Charlie's voice was overly hearty, and it occurred to Harry that maybe her family had been discussing Ginny too. Charlie tended to be the most blunt, better with creatures than people, and could usually be depended on to break awkward silences with equally awkward words.

Luckily, Ginny interceded. "We're fine," she nodded firmly. Then she shrugged. "As fine as we're able to be, I mean."

"I don't think any of us will be really fine ever again," said Fleur softly. Her head inclined towards the windows and Harry saw George sitting there, looking silently out over the grounds. Just looking at him, thinking about what George had lost, made Harry feel a little sick. Percy was sitting quietly next to him, and Harry remembered that Percy had been the last one with Fred before the world exploded.

"Will you come home with us, Harry? We're going to be leaving in a few hours." Molly Weasley had always had a careworn look about her, but now she seemed to have aged a dozen years. She was holding Arthur's hand and Harry could tell immediately that the man was using all his strength to hold it together for his wife. He nodded jerkily at Harry. "Please come home with us," he said quietly.

Harry hadn't even considered where he might go, but there was no question that the Burrow was the only place he could stand to be. "Yes, thank you," he said.

Another awkward silence fell. Although, maybe it wasn't awkward, Harry considered. He'd assumed no one was talking because he and Ginny had arrived and interrupted a conversation about them. But it was just as likely – probably even more likely – that they had all been sitting mostly in silence all morning.

He looked quickly at Ron, trying to decide if it would be wrong to pull him and Hermione away to talk. Now that he was back among other people and not cosseted away with Ginny, Harry was starting to feel the pressure to start trying to figure out his mess. He knew deep down that a solution was not going to be either easy or quick, and the urge to _not waste any time_ was growing. He looked helplessly at Ginny. It wasn't right to ask her to leave her family already; he'd had her alone for hours. And he had lived – mostly successfully - as a Horcrux for over sixteen years, another day or two wouldn't matter, he told himself. It was the knowledge that made it feel different; nothing really had changed.

"Harry, do you have a minute?" Bill's voice carried easily across the quiet room. Harry saw the man's eyes flick to Charlie. He gave a subtle nod back.

"Yeah, sure," said Harry. He couldn't imagine what Bill wanted, but he and Fleur had hosted Harry, Ron and Hermione for weeks without complaint, and Harry wasn't about to refuse him now.

Bill inclined his head across the room to the group of sofas near the portrait hole. Charlie stood up too, and for a minute, Harry wondered if Ginny's two oldest brothers were planning to give him a talk about their sister. She'd already slipped her hand into his, and it was obvious she planned to hear whatever they had to say. Harry squeezed Ginny's hand in thanks and she muttered quietly under her breath. "I'll hex them myself if they say anything." Ginny's thoughts had obviously gone the same place.

"They won't." Harry knew the time for lectures and joking threats had passed. The four of them settled down on the sofas. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Molly start to clean up the breakfast things. Fleur and Hermione jumped to help her; they all worked by hand and not magic.

Arthur got up and put a hand on Ron's shoulder; after a minute the two of them walked over to sit with George and Percy. Harry turned his attention back to Bill.

The man was blunt. "We know something's wrong," he said. He raised his hand to silence the protest already forming on Harry's lips. "I know there are things you can't tell us, but you can't deny it either." He grimaced. "Ginny's . . . killing curse. It didn't really kill Voldemort, not completely, did it?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so," he admitted. "But I'm not sure of much else." He looked across the room. This was a conversation he really needed to be having with Ron and Hermione; they understood the situation and the implications of Voldemort not being gone. But Ron was now hugging George and Hermione looked to be having a discussion with Fleur and Molly while she levitated a stack of dishes in front of her. No doubt she was insisting that they not call the house elves to help clean up. He turned back to Bill and Charlie.

"I'm not trying to keep anything important from you, I swear," he said finally. "But there are things I need . . . I mean, _we need_ – Ron and Hermione and Ginny and me – to figure out first." He looked at Bill, and then Charlie and hoped they understood. "I can't risk making a mistake, not now," he said frankly.

"And we do know we're going to need your help," added Ginny. "Charlie, you'll be back in Eastern Europe, right? Where you might hear or see things?"

Harry felt a surge of warmth. Ginny's thoughts had gone exactly where his own were; Voldemort's familiarity with Albania might very well have led him back there with whatever he had left. It wasn't much to go on, but at least it was an idea.

Charlie nodded. "Can I at least know what to look for?"

"Anything odd or suspicious," said Harry. "Disappearances. People . . . or animals behaving as they shouldn't. Rumors." He couldn't say more yet, not until he understood better what they were facing.

"He . . . Voldemort . . . he doesn't have a body anymore, does he?" Harry couldn't blame Charlie for his nerves; the man would probably rather face a nest of nursing dragons than come across any remnant of Voldemort. He shook his head.

"No, I'm pretty confident he doesn't have a body." Unsaid was Harry's next thought, _yet. He doesn't have a new body yet."_ He looked across the room again. This time, Ron caught his eye and gave a small nod of understanding. He said something to George, who nodded and said something back.

"You're going to need help understanding curses." Bill said. "Curses you may not even know exist yet."

Harry thought of all the dark magic they'd already seen during the past year. He nodded. "You're right," he said. "I won't forget that." He took a deep breath. It was not like before, when Dumbledore had given him a task and sworn him to secrecy. Now Harry was flying blind, in large part because Dumbledore had planned poorly. "I won't keep secrets," he said to Bill and Charlie. "But you have to understand, we can't let too many people know. It could be dangerous for everyone."

"We have an idea about that, George and I." Ron had walked over to the group. He gestured back to the window. "I think, and George agreed, that we should get Potterwatch involved again. He's ready to reach out to Lee, if you think it's a good idea." Ron's voice had an undercurrent of begging in it. Indeed George's eyes looked a little less empty as he waited for Ron.

Harry didn't have to think long. "That's a brilliant idea," he said. "We can tell people what they need to know, and keep back what they don't." He nodded, liking the idea more and more. "They'll believe Potterwatch," he said. Unspoken was the fact that it would also give George a purpose to move forward. "Let's talk to him and Lee in the next day or two." He looked around. "But now, I need to talk to Ron and Hermione," he said. Too many things were happening at once, and although Harry knew they were all needed, it felt like they were starting to put the cart before the horse. Decisions – about curses and Potterwatch and who else to tell what they knew – they couldn't be made until Harry talked with the other three people who didn't need much explanation.

Bill stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll leave you to it then," he said. "But don't expect us to sit on the sidelines. Use us, use our knowledge, please." He spoke to Harry not as if he was his youngest brother's best mate, but as an equal, and it was this more than anything that made him grasp the older man by the arm in thanks. "I will, Bill, I promise," he said.

The ended up – the four of them – back in Harry and Ron's dormitory, now heavily warded. Now that he had them alone, Harry couldn't help but let his concerns spill out.

"We don't even know where Voldemort's body, or what's left of his body, is. Right?" Harry had been going over in his mind everything he knew about what had happened, trying amass as many solid facts as he could in the hopes that when they were all put together, a coherent solution revealed itself. Unfortunately, solid facts were few and far between. Already he had heard so many rumors and explanations of what had happened that he half expected the Daily Prophet to soon publish a story proclaiming that Harry and Ginny had killed Voldemort by shooting spells out of their eyes.

"We don't know," Ginny agreed. She had seen the most, having been the one to cast the final curse. "He just kind of evaporated, but I think I saw flashes of light floating away out a broken window." She shrugged. "You woke up at almost the same time, so I didn't pay as much attention to Voldemort as I should have."

"Do you think it's like the last time he disappeared?" Ron was flopped on his old bed, but now he sat up, looking thoughtful. "The curse didn't rebound though, did it? Ginny hit him square in the chest."

"I think it's probably similar," Harry said. He wasn't actually sure, but needed to try to find something definite to believe. "He had his soul ripped from his body; all that's left keeping him alive is the fact that I still have another piece inside of me."

"But how come Voldemort's Killing Curse didn't destroy the Horcrux inside you?" asked Hermione. "In the Pensieve, Dumbledore told Snape that you had to let Voldemort kill you to destroy the Horcrux, and that's what you did, right?"

Harry sighed. This had been the most difficult part of his conversation with Dumbledore when he'd met the man at some in between version of King's Cross Station.

"I was able to come back after getting hit by the curse because when Voldemort was resurrected, after the Twi-Wizard tournament, he used my blood to do it." Harry rubbed at his eyes. "That blood tethered me to life in kind of the same way that my being a Horcrux tethered Voldemort."

"But the Horcrux . . ." began Hermione. Harry could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to understand.

Harry leaned against Ginny before responding. "Yeah, well, not surprisingly, I'm one in a million again when it comes to facing Voldemort," he said. "The only unintended human Horcrux ever made." He sighed. "Destroying the Horcrux required an intentional act to let Voldemort kill me – almost the opposite of how the Horcrux got inside of me in the first place. Jumping in front of Ginny was instinctual – to save her life – it wasn't an intentional to face death. Apparently, that makes a difference." The conversation was skirting thing's Harry didn't want yet to say, about Dumbledore, and the look in the man's eye when he realized his plan for Harry to have this knowledge in time to use it properly had failed. Harry had relied on the headmaster – even dead – to have an answer, and the man's helplessness when he realized that Harry still had the Horcrux inside him had been more than disconcerting. Harry had broken off conversation and brought himself back to the final battle in time to watch Ginny kill Voldemort, and with it, kill any chance Harry might have had to let the man try to kill him again.

Not that he blamed Ginny, of course; Voldemort had to die. Dumbledore had been completely unsure what might happen if Harry faced Voldemort, knowing that this time, the destruction of the Horcrux would leave nothing at all to tether either of them to life. Ironically, Voldemort needed Harry to stay alive, at least until he figured out a new way to return. And Harry had no doubt that the man was already trying to figure out a way to return.

He shared all this, quickly, with the others. Their faces reflected the same sort of hopelessness Harry himself had been trying to keep at bay. He leaned into Ginny, wishing he could just ask Ron and Hermione to leave so that he could pick up where they had left off earlier in his bed. She kissed him on the temple. "Soon," she muttered, understanding.

"I'll start making a list," said Hermione. "Of the first things we need to figure out."

"And who might be able to help us," added Ron. He looked seriously at Harry. "I know we don't want to cause panic by telling people Voldemort isn't really gone, but Bill and Charlie are right; we need help."

Harry nodded tiredly. Already, trying to work things out in his brain was wearing him out. "I know," he said. "But can it wait a couple of days? I'd like to see the list Hermione comes up with." He flashed her a small smile and she smiled tentatively back. Clearly, her earlier failure to give Harry's Snape's thoughts in time was still weighing on her.

"I'll get right on that," she promised. She jumped up. "I have parchment downstairs; I'll be sure to charm it so no one else can see it." She grabbed Ron's hand. "I think George may need help explaining things to Lee," she said. She glanced at Harry. "We aren't leaving for the Burrow for a couple of hours," she said quietly. Molly and Arthur are taking a walk on the grounds to discuss plans for . . . tomorrow; you have a little time to rest."

Harry smiled at her gratefully. "Thanks," he said. Not even caring that Ron and Hermione were still there, he pulled Ginny further onto the bed.

Ron gave him the tiniest smirk. "I don't want to know, remember?"

Harry looked at the space where Ron was holding hands with Hermione. "Neither do I," he said.

Ron nodded. "Well all right then."

And then they were gone and Harry pulled Ginny in for a long kiss. "This is the only thing that makes everything else go away," he mumbled against her lips. He moved his hand down between them, but then his face split with an enormous yawn. He looked at Ginny sheepishly. "I guess maybe I'm still tired," he said.

Ginny pulled him down so they were both lying on the bed. "Nap now," she said decisively. "We are going to the Burrow later, and I've always wanted to snog – and more – in my bedroom."

Harry shivered. "That sounds . . . yeah," he said. "Your bedroom would be brilliant." He yawned again. "Stay with me?"

Ginny reached down and pulled the quilt over them. "Of course," she said. She rested her head on his chest.

And Harry slept.


	3. Three

A/N: This is where the story starts to earn its "M" rating. If that's not your thing, feel free to stop reading.

Ron heard the yelling first, which was not a surprise; Harry's nightmares had punctuated the entire year of the Horcrux hunt. At first, he and Hermione had rushed every time to wake him with cups of water and questions about what he'd seen, but as the days slipped into weeks, and the visions failed to yield real clues, Harry had quietly started setting wards around his bed most nights. Ron could usually tell in the morning how Harry had slept, the bleariness in his eyes and shortness of his temper gave him away. But even though it had been months since he'd heard one, Ron knew immediately that this nightmare was bad.

He met Ginny on the landing in front of the dorm; she'd apparently just been in the loo. Her eyes were concerned. "I thought he was asleep!" she said.

"He is," said Ron. "How long were you gone?"

"Only about twenty minutes – I went to see George." Ginny bit her lip.

"Don't feel guilty," said Ron sharply. "You can't be with him every second. And he wouldn't want you to ignore the family anyway."

"I know," said Ginny quietly. They pushed open the door. "But I wonder if my leaving is what caused the nightmare. He was sleeping calmly when I got up."

Ron shrugged. "All kinds of things cause his nightmares; we never figured out a pattern," he said. "Except, of course, Fifth year, when Voldemort was putting visions in his head."

"Voldemort's far away now," said Ginny softly. She walked over to the bed. Harry was thrashing about and moaning, his legs tangled in the blankets. "And too weak to do anything anyway." She seemed to be speaking to Harry as much as Ron as she leaned over and brushed her hand across Harry's forehead. He stilled at her touch but didn't open his eyes.

"Harry, it's me," Ginny said quietly. "You're having a nightmare. It's not real."

"Except that it is," muttered Ron under his breath. Ginny glared silently at him. "That's not helping right now," she hissed. She touched Harry on the shoulder. "Harry?"

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes. "Ginny," he rasped. "Ron. Sorry . . . sorry about that." He closed his eyes again as if the effort of keeping them open was too much for him.

"He always apologizes," said Ron. "It's okay, mate," he said bracingly. "Not a surprise you had one, considering. What was it this time? Umbridge catching us at the Ministry? Me getting splinched? That snake in Godric's Hollow?" He looked at Ginny. "Those were some of the common ones – one of us getting hurt somehow. Or sometimes he dreamed of being attacked by a cursed Horcrux." Ron shuddered. "We all had that one, actually."

Harry shook his head, eyes still closed. "No, it wasn't that. It was . . . nothing. I mean, I don't really remember this time."

Ron didn't believe him and he could tell Ginny didn't either. "Are you sure? You were yelling pretty loud," he said.

Harry swallowed and rubbed his eyes before pushing himself into a sitting position. "Positive," he said weakly. He slowly got off the bed. "I need . . . loo. Wash my face," he said thickly. He winced and held his head, but put up a hand when Ginny stepped towards him.

"I'm okay," he said to her. "It's always like this, right afterwards. Ask . . . ask Ron. He'll tell you." He took a step towards the door. "I'll be right back." He looked back at Ginny. "Wait for me here?"

Ron could tell that Ginny would much rather have gone with Harry; he was pale and shaking and looked worse than he did after most nightmares. But she nodded and sat down on the bed. "I'll be here," she promised.

HPHPHPHPHP

Harry stumbled into the loo and managed to set a silencing charm before he vomited. The images from his nightmare still swirled dizzily in his head afterwards; he didn't want to think what they meant.

Ginny was sitting on Harry's bed when he returned; she jumped up and gave him a searching look, only relaxing after she had looked him over and apparently concluded that nothing was seriously wrong. Harry mentally thanked Merlin that his charms had worked to hide the worst of his pallor, and he took particular care not to sway or stumble as he walked to his bed and flopped down against the pillows.

"So, are we leaving for the Burrow soon?" he asked with forced casualness. He could tell Ginny wasn't quite fooled. She narrowed her eyes when his voice wavered, but answered his question anyway.

"In about an hour, once my parents . . . once they finish . . . getting Fred there. They're arranging Portkeys for the rest of us."

Harry gave a quiet sigh of relief; a Portkey would be easier on his head and stomach than either the floo or apparition. Inexplicably, his nausea and headache eased with that thought, and it was with much more deliberation that he sat up on his bed and opened his arms to Ginny. She crawled into his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. Slowly, Harry felt himself relax and they sat silently for what he suspected was the last moment of peace they would have for a while.

"Where's Ron?" he asked after a few minutes.

"He went down to find Hermione," Ginny said. She moved in his arms and Harry heard her sigh. "We should go find them."

They stood up slowly, Harry hiding the fact that he still didn't trust the state of his head, but it still felt clear. He looked around the room one last time before they left; even having not lived there the entire past year, it felt more like home to him than anyplace else he'd ever stayed, and it felt odd to leave with so little fanfare.

"I'll probably never sleep here again," he said quietly.

". . . Maybe . . ." Ginny started to say something, but then stopped. "We're going to be facing a whole new kind of uncertainty," she finally said.

Harry nodded. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but this feels different." The disturbing thoughts that had been trying to invade his brain pushed there again and he shook them away, hoping Ginny didn't notice. "I hope Hermione has been working on her list," he said. Harry knew he needed a plan, even if it was a poorly formed or ultimately failing one. He tightened his arms around Ginny and tried to keep his voice strong. "But that can wait. For now, we need to focus on your family."

"I hate this," Ginny said in a small voice. Her need helped Harry's head clear. He locked away the nightmare, or whatever it was, to be examined later. Ginny leaned into him and he kissed her gently before leading her down the stairs to the common room.

HPHPHPHPHP

Ginny knew it was taking a lot out of Harry to stay present at the Burrow. More than once, she saw him glance at Ron and Hermione as if to ask them something, only to stop and shake his head to himself. At the same time, he was trying to help everywhere at once with the plans for Fred's funeral – clearing the outdoor space, setting up chairs on the hill outside the orchard, taking over cooking when her mum had starting crying in the midst of making Fred's favorite dessert. She hoped that keeping busy was helping Harry get out of his head, but after the third time she caught him staring into space, a look of despair in his eyes, she dragged him up to her room.

He didn't protest, which made Ginny think she should have brought him there a lot earlier.

"I think I need a Pensieve," he said, as soon as she'd locked and silenced her door. "I can't keep ignoring everything in my head right now. I need to not think about it until after the funeral . . . the funerals. And Teddy too." Harry's face was tortured.

"He's coming tomorrow," said Ginny. "And for Remus and Tonks, of course." She wrapped her arms around Harry's waist. "I'm not sure where we can find a Pensieve, but maybe there's a potion?" She was sure her mum would know what to do, if the situation had been different.

"I have dreamless sleep, for later. Madame Pomfrey gave me a bottle before we left," he said. He sighed. "It's okay, I'll manage." He looked down at Ginny. "And it's not your job to worry about me right now." He took her face in his hands. "I mean it. You need to focus on your family." His mouth quirked. "Don't worry, there'll be plenty of time for you to help me fall to pieces later."

"That's the spirit," murmured Ginny. She knew Harry wasn't joking about falling to pieces, but like him, she was becoming expert at pushing things to the back of her mind. She moved her hands down to Harry's waist. "My mum wants us all for dinner in an hour," she said. She dipped her thumbs inside his jeans and brushed along the skin there.

Harry made a small sound in his throat. "Ginny . . . are you sure? I don't want to . . ." his voice cut off when she pulled him more firmly against her.

"George and Angelina are currently taking an enormous box of fireworks up to . . . to the gravesite," she said softly. "Tomorrow's going to be absolutely horrible, but George said that the worst thing would be for everyone just to sit around crying into their butterbeer."

"He suggested crying into really good Firewhiskey instead, I bet," said Harry.

Ginny took Harry's hands and slowly led him over to her bed. "Exactly," she said. She sat down and pulled him next to her. "And if Fred's still hanging around, I can't think of any prank more appropriate than for him to know that his baby sister is getting naked in her room with a boy."

Harry swallowed. "Naked?" he asked. Ginny was pleased to hear a note of interest in his voice. She shrugged. "More or less. We'll see what happens."

Harry twisted on the bed to face her. "If you're sure," he said hesitantly. Ginny heard his breathing quicken.

"I'm sure," she said. "Are you? This isn't something to feel guilty about, you know."

Harry had moved his lips to her neck. "I'll probably feel guilty," he admitted. He stopped kissing her. "I already feel guilty that I want to let us use Fred as an excuse."

Ginny pulled Harry's head back to her neck. "I'm going to need to lean on you later," she said quietly. "But right now, I need something else."

"A distraction," Harry mumbled. His lips brushed tentatively against hers. "Earlier you called it a distraction."

"That's right," said Ginny. The gentle teasing in her voice was gone. "Please distract me Harry. I just don't want to have to think, for a little while."

He looked at her then, and she could see the need in his own eyes too. "Okay," he said thickly.

It was as if a switch had been flipped inside of Harry. He immediately took control, pushing Ginny gently back against the pillows and then pulling off his shirt before stretching out next to her. She quickly pulled off her own jumper and dropped it and her bra onto the floor.

Harry didn't hesitate. He climbed on top of her and fit himself in between her legs with a soft groan. He was already hard, and Ginny grabbed his bum and pushed him into her center. _Grinding . . ._

Harry's kisses were insistent, but a bit perfunctory. He soon sat up and moved his hand to rest on Ginny's stomach, just above the waistband of the track pants she wore. "D'you want to . . . I mean, can I . . . take these off?" Harry bit his lip.

Ginny nodded. "Yours too then," she said.

Harry nodded, hands already at his belt. "I'll leave my pants on," he said thickly, pushing down his jeans. The move was inartful, and Ginny could see the blush climbing his cheeks as she appraised the lump of him that the thin fabric of his boxers couldn't hide.

"I've been thinking about this," he admitted, gesturing at his erection. "With you, I mean." He leaned over and helped Ginny tug down her own bottoms, allowing Harry to get his first glimpse of her knickers. He sucked in his breath.

"They're so small," he said, a bit of awe in his voice.

Ginny chuckled. "What did you expect? Something like my Aunt Muriel would wear?"

Harry shuddered. "I don't want to think about that." He reached out a finger, and then pulled it back. "I just didn't imagine that they'd only cover . . . what they need to." He gestured at his pants. "With blokes, there's usually more clothing on top of . . . what's underneath."

"There certainly is more," agreed Ginny. She scooted closer and pulled him back on top of her. "But with blokes, there's also more to see, even covered." She wiggled against him and felt Harry's erection nestle in the perfect place between her legs. "Like there," she said with satisfaction. "I don't even have to see it, actually."

Harry grunted a response. He pushed into her more insistently. "What if . . . I want you to see it?"

Ginny shivered. "What if I want you to see me?"

Harry froze. "You'd let me . . . really? Without your knickers?"

Ginny didn't even have to think about it. She felt more normal right now, talking with Harry about _seeing each other naked_, than she had in months. She nodded. "I think you should see me first," she said, a bit more calmly than she actually felt. "From what I've seen, you're likely to be pretty useless after you . . . you know."

Harry couldn't disagree. Even if it hadn't been true, he would have said pretty much anything Ginny wanted to get her to take off her knickers first. He touched the soft cotton. "Should I . . .?"

"Yes please," answered Ginny, a little shyly. Harry took hold of the fabric and Ginny lifted her hips and then there she was, lying completely naked on her bed, with Harry looking at her, looking at _everything._

She forced herself not to wiggle or move her hands to cover herself. The look in Harry's eyes helped. It was much more curious awe than open lust, and when he carefully reached out a finger to brush against her curls, Ginny sighed with pleasure.

Harry looked at her. "That felt good? Just that?" He looked down at his hand as if he couldn't quite believe it.

"It did," Ginny confirmed. "I mean, I'm sure it's going to get better, but just knowing that it's you, touching me . . ." she smiled at him. "I like it."

Harry blew out a breath. "Well, okay then," he said. He sat up cross-legged at her waist and contemplated things for a long moment before reaching out and cupping her entirely with his palm. He moved a couple of fingers down and teased at her entrance and Ginny couldn't help but buck herself against Harry's hand.

Harry's next grin was more confident. "That's good too, right?"

Ginny nodded. "It's all good, Harry. Whatever you want to do."

What Harry wanted to _do, _Ginny soon realized, was try to bring her to orgasm.

His hands stroked and teased and explored, and in between he kissed her softly, first about her lips and jaw, and the slowly lower, spending delicious minutes at her chest, sucking and fondling at once. Her own reactions seemed to bring out more in Harry too; Ginny could feel his penis against her side, between her breasts, near the juncture of her thighs.

Harry did something particularly wonderful with his tongue and Ginny swore an oath her mother might have punished her for not long ago. In response, Harry made a pleased sound and sat up, scooting himself back down to Ginny's waist again. The look of awe was still in his eyes, but now Ginny saw a hint of challenge there as well. His erection jutted out towards her and he stroked his absently for a minute, eyes closed. He seemed to be thinking about something, and Ginny saw his lips move. Finally, he nodded to himself and opened his eyes, reaching out to Ginny at the same time.

"I've read a book," Harry said conversationally, gently tickling over her folds and creases. "Not since Sixth Year, but it's not really the kind of thing you forget." He slowly inserted a finger inside and moved it around in a way that convinced Ginny that _yes_, Harry indeed remembered this particular lesson.

She made a small sound, and Harry added a second finger.

"I'd hoped you'd already be wet," he continued in a pleased voice. "Reading about it is one thing, but it's nice to see the theory confirmed in practice." He gently moved his fingers in and out, increasing both pressure and speed when Ginny began to writhe against his hand.

"Very good," he muttered, almost to himself. "Let's see if I can find the . . . yes, I think that's it." His thumb stroked across Ginny's clit and she cried out.

"Excellent," said Harry happily. He stroked again, and then pressed his thumb directly against the nub, rolling it gently. He'd stretched out alongside her again and was propped up on the arm that wasn't currently between Ginny's legs. She squeezed her thighs around Harry's hand and then grabbed at him, holding him in place.

"Right . . . you should show me, especially the . . . .first time." Harry's voice sounded strained. Ginny moved Harry's fingers in and out of her in a more purposeful rhythm while she lifted her hips to put more pressure on the thumb pressing into her clit. Briefly, she considered trying to reach Harry's erection with her other hand; by the insistent pressing she felt against her leg, she knew Harry was trying to draw out the pleasure for himself too. But it would be awkward to try to reach him and Ginny was feeling too good to risk losing any of the contact with Harry's hand.

It didn't matter anyway; seconds later Harry did something with the fingers inside her at the same time he put the exact right amount of pressure on her clit and Ginny came undone, rocking back and forth around Harry's hand as she climaxed.

Harry's cry of pleasure was almost as loud as Ginny's, and she was still enjoying the aftershocks of her own orgasm when she finally twisted to reach down to grab Harry's penis. At some point he'd pushed off his boxers and Ginny admired him curiously for probably too long, because he groaned something that sounded both like her name and _please_, and Ginny realized she had loosened her grip.

It took a remarkably short time for Harry to climax, and Ginny couldn't help but feeling nearly as proud as Harry had been with her.

"And I didn't even need a book," she said contentedly. They were still naked, curled up on top of the covers of her bed, sweaty and sticky and quite pleased with themselves.

"Yeah, well, everything's a little more _out there_ for blokes," Harry pointed out reasonably. "And by age seventeen, most of us have been nearly perpetually hard for a number of years. You could probably get me to climax just by looking at me the right way."

"I'll have to try that sometime," Ginny said. She yawned. "I wish we could just take a nap." Making sure she didn't give into that thought was enough to make her sit up purposefully. The mood in the room shifted subtly.

"I know," said Harry quietly. "I wish a lot of things right now." He sat up too, and Accio'ed the clothing from the floor. He handed Ginny her jumper.

"Remember, no guilt," said Ginny. "All of this, it was a good thing."

Harry gave her a small smile. "A very good thing," he said, leaning forward to kiss her. He rested his forehead on hers. "It just also makes me think about how I'm not going to be able to take it – or you – for granted." He sat up again. "Not that I'd ever take you for granted, of course, but I'd hoped . . ."

"I know what you mean," Ginny said. "Me too."

Carefully, they straightened the bed and then walked downstairs to the family. Hermione's hair was even more disheveled than usual and Ginny suspected that she and Ron had been remembering Fred in their own way. Slowly, everyone arrived from various corners of the Burrow and crowded around the magically extended table in the kitchen.

"Why aren't we outside?" Ron spoke quietly, sitting next to Ginny and looking past her to Harry. Ginny suspected he was assessing whether Harry had fully recovered from his nightmare.

To her surprise, Harry answered before she could. "Outside is for celebrations," he said. "Better to be uncomfortably crammed in here than have to remember birthdays and . . . other good things outside." Harry's voice broke at the end and Ron gave Ginny a searching look. She shrugged, silently begging her brother not to say anything right now. Already, any respite Harry had gotten from their time in her room seemed to have melted away and his eyes had regained their haunted look. Ginny squeezed his hand, not sure if she was offering comfort, or seeking it.

Dinner itself was unbearable. The immediate pain Ginny felt over the loss of Fred warred with the dull ache of fear that had settled in the pit of her stomach as soon as Harry had told them his news. She couldn't wrap her head around both sorrows at once, and the resulting headache made her want to find a place alone and curl up in a ball.

Harry wasn't doing any better, she could tell, and by the fake tone in Ron's voice as he tried to engage everyone in a conversation about chess, she knew that this was a meal they were all just going to have to buckle down and get through.

". . . by 11 tomorrow morning." Ginny forced her attention to her mother's voice. Molly spoke with almost no affect, and it was worse even than the hysterical tears Ginny had seen her cry earlier.

Ginny couldn't admit she hadn't heard her mum's instructions; she leaned around Ron and looked at Hermione.

"We all need to be . . . up the hill by then," she whispered to Ginny. "There won't be any formal breakfast or anything, but you mum will leave food out."

Ginny shook her head, both at the thought of trying to eat anything tomorrow and at the fact that her mother was still worrying about feeding them all. "Thanks," she muttered. She pushed her plate away, feeling supremely unhungry.

Too many people tried to help clean up, and Ginny soon found herself standing helplessly by the steps with Harry and Ron. In front of them, plates and platters, still mostly full of food, flew gracelessly to the counters and icebox.

"Kingsley will be there tomorrow," said Harry abruptly. Ginny had no idea where his thoughts were. "He sent me a Patronus." He looked at Ron. "We need to speak to him."

Ron nodded "I know," he said, and Ginny wondered if the two were continuing a conversation they'd had earlier.

"Maybe not tomorrow though," Harry amended. He leaned into Ginny.

"We can set up a meeting," Ron said. "I think that would be okay." He glanced across the room where now only Arthur stood, helping Molly put away the dishes. Ginny heard low voices coming from the sitting room.

And then Hermione was there. "I've been thinking too," she said. "I've got some ideas."

Harry nodded. "We'll figure out a time for that too." He looked towards the sounds Ginny had heard. "Should we be in there?" he asked. "It sounds like everyone else is."

Ginny nodded. It was as good a place as any. She doubted any of them were going to sleep tonight, but whether they all planned to stay awake together downstairs or pretend normalcy in their bedrooms, she had no idea. For now, she only wanted to be with her family.

As if guessing her thoughts, Harry whispered in her ear. "I'm fine, don't worry." His hand touched the small of her back in a gentle gesture.

Ginny leaned into him. "I know," she whispered back. "Thank you." Her anxiety and headache eased, she took Harry's hand, and together, they walked into the sitting room


	4. Four

A/N: This chapter unexpectedly needed a considerable amount of hand-holding about halfway through, and I'm extremely grateful to have gotten it. Without that help, I can't promise exactly what you might have read towards the end. Also, I have say a separate thank you to Melindaleo – your most recent review crystalized a couple of things I had knocking around in my brain in a way that helped enormously, even if you didn't realize it. So thank yous all around!

Harry and Ginny didn't make love after Fred's funeral, or Remus and Tonks' either. They talked about it, about needing a distraction, but Harry was more relieved than disappointed that Ginny just wanted him to hold her after they came down the hill where Fred was buried. They remained close to her family, sleeping, as it were, for a second night in the Burrow's sitting room.

What they did do, with Ron and Hermione, was find Kingsley after the service for the Lupins was over, and pull him aside under protection of a Muffliato.

"Ron and I need to join the Aurors right away." Harry was blunt. "And not as trainees." Swiftly, he told Kingsley why.

The head Auror raised his eyebrows once or twice while Harry spoke, but to his credit, did not interrupt. Harry did his best to keep the emotion out of his voice as he explained what he and Ron needed to do, what they needed to search for. And when Bill glanced over and then disengaged himself from the small knot of mourners to join them, Harry did not hesitate to include the man in his explanation.

"We need to know as much as possible about the curse, or curses, used to create a Horcrux." Harry was holding Ginny's hand, and he knew that only she could tell it was trembling.

"And how to destroy one too?" asked Bill in a gentle voice. Harry shook his head.

"We . . . know how to do that already," he said quietly.

"Then we need to go to Hogwarts, immediately if possible," said Bill. "The strength of any magical signatures will start to wane soon."

"Not to mention that the reconstruction is scheduled to start next week," said Kingsley.

Harry started at that news. The thought that things were moving on, that plans had already been made to rebuild the castle, to prepare it for the next class of First Years, was disconcerting. In some part of his mind, Harry had assumed that everything would stop while he hunted down Voldemort. The battle – already people were calling it the _Final Battle_ – had done what it was supposed to, as far as most knew. Voldemort was dead and he and Ginny were heroes. Of course they'd be wanting to celebrate and then move on. Those who were mourning would take longer, and would never be the same, but there would be memorials and remembrances and the purity of their grief.

But Harry was stuck. And he was one of the precious few who knew how tenuous the joy and security of everyone else really was. That knowledge added another layer of pressure to the urgency of finding what was left of Voldemort and finishing what should have been done the first time. He pulled himself out of his thoughts and back to the discussion at hand.

". . . Dumbledore's portrait?" Kingsley was saying. Before Harry could even respond, Ginny and Ron were shaking their heads.

"I'm not sure he'll know; he didn't expect we wouldn't . . ." Ginny broke off, looking hesitantly at Hermione.

"Dumbledore left too much to the chance of perfect timing." Harry absolved Hermione with his words and with them finally acknowledged the flaws in his old headmaster that Harry had stubbornly ignored for so long. "He was shocked when he realized Snape hadn't reached me in time," he continued bitterly, remembering the look of surprise and confusion on Dumbledore's face when he'd spoken to Harry at King's Cross.

Harry thought he might have been the only one to notice Kingsley's face fall, ever so slightly. That the head Auror harbored the same reliance as Harry that Dumbledore – even one reduced to paint and canvas – would have all the answers, was oddly comforting. He didn't envy the man his new understanding about Dumbledore's fallibility; indeed, Harry himself wasn't sure he'd ever come fully to terms with it. And he wasn't quite ready to accept it completely.

"But now that it's been a few days, I suspect he's come up with some ideas, at least a place to start," said Harry.

Kingsley relaxed and Bill nodded. "Then it's all the more important that we get to Hogwarts. Today if possible." He looked pensive for a moment. "I'm going to call in a few old friends - curse-breakers and others, if you think that's okay. We can bind them to a contract of secrecy, but I think we need the help."

Harry agreed quickly. He trusted Bill, and the stories of his gang from Hogwarts and their brilliance was still stuff of legend. Harry felt the knot of anxiety in him loosen a bit as he contemplated what Bill's friends might be able to figure out.

He was holding Ginny's hand, talking to her about Teddy and how he could continue to fit in time to see the boy, as they approached the exit to the small cemetery where Remus and Tonks had been buried. Harry hadn't realized wards had been set up around the service; as soon as he and Ginny passed through the gates, a roar of noise and flashbulbs greeted them.

"What the fuck?" Bill and Fleur were right behind them, wands out, but it was too late. A throng of press, well-wishers, hangers on, and others crowded around. If Harry hadn't already been holding Ginny's hand, he was sure they would have been swept away into separate pools of admirers, possibly waylaid for hours. She gripped onto him instinctively, ducking her head into his chest, which of course caused another surge of noise and photos.

"Harry, Harry, is it true that you and Miss Weasley have a soul bond as a result of her killing You Know Who?"

"How did The Boy Who Live, live again? Can you tell us what you know?"

"Did you dispose of He Who Must Not Be Named's body yourself? No one can find it, or hadn't you heard?"

"Where have you been all this past year? Why did it take so long for you to confront the Dark Lord?"

"Miss Weasley, how does it feel to be the second Savior of the Wizarding World?"

The voices were insistent and intrusive. Despite having faced similar questioning mobs too many times in his life already, Harry had never gotten used to them. Hearing Ginny being put under the spotlight too, on top of all of the stressed he'd faced that week already, pushed Harry over the edge.

"His name is Voldemort! Use it!" The shouts and questions had stopped as soon as Harry turned around, and his voice sounded unnaturally loud in the sudden silence. He didn't care.

"And he's gone, okay? Gone!" The lie felt odd on his tongue. He gripped Ginny more tightly, wishing his words would protect her from the crowd. "It doesn't matter how or where or why he disappeared, just know that he's not coming back, okay? There's nothing to worry about, not anymore. We . . ." - Harry gestured to the people around him - "We took care of it, completely. There's no reason for all these questions, all this suspicion, none at all. You aren't going to find anything else out by attacking us . . . there's nothing to know, I mean. Nothing to . . ."

Harry choked off when he felt the sting of a hex on his back. He whirled around. Ron's wand was barely visible inside the sleeve of his robe and he gave Harry a brief, sharp look before his face relaxed again into that of a mourner. Next to him, Ginny murmured "better stop talking, don't give them ideas," and Harry felt his stomach drop. The silence had morphed into confused muttering, and a few flashbulbs began to pop again. He only waited long enough to hear a voice call out "But, Mr. Potter, what does that mean for . . ." before he grabbed Ginny and turned on the spot.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry had no idea why Grimmauld Place popped into his head, but that's where he found himself moments later, balanced carefully with Ginny on the top step of the front door. Too late, it occurred to him that the house could have been overrun by Death Eaters for the past months, ever since he and Ron and Hermione had barely escaped retrieving the locket Horcrux from the Ministry of Magic. But they wouldn't be here now, and Harry didn't have anyplace else private to be.

"Stay behind me," he said quietly to Ginny, and eased open the front door.

He held his breath, waiting for the tongue-tying curse and then the ghostly Dumbledore to appear, but all was quiet. The place had an air of abandonment about it, but it was spotlessly clean; Kreacher had clearly not neglected his duties for a day, all this time.

Harry closed the door behind them and quietly pulled Ginny into his arms. She was shaking, most likely from anger, he thought, and he held her until both of their breathing had slowed.

"How do you stand it?" she finally asked. "Will they ever leave you alone?" She grimaced. "Or is it 'us' now?"

"I think you're as interesting to them as I am now," said Harry grimly. "Both because they think you killed Voldemort and because they suspect you have a connection to me." He ran his hand through his hair. "And I made it worse, yelling like that, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did," said Ginny honestly. "You were so insistent he's gone, it kind of sounded like maybe you know he isn't."

"Fuck, I'm an idiot," said Harry. "Now they're going to be paying even more attention." He sighed. "We probably need to go back to the Burrow, don't we?" He looked up the stairs, contemplating what would happen if he just slipped into one of the upstairs bedrooms and crawled under the covers for a while. There were so many threads pulling at him, and Harry wasn't sure which ones to follow first – grief over their losses, Teddy, managing the press and protecting Ginny from them, finding and destroying Voldemort, ridding himself of the Horcrux, and of course, doing it all without dying – it was so much to think about.

"We should go soon," Ginny agreed. "But if you want to rest here for a little while first, I think everyone will understand."

"It's quiet here," Harry said. "And I need to sit and think." He didn't think he'd be able to make any decisions, not yet, but the stillness was calming. The walked together into the sitting room and sank as one onto the sofa. Ginny climbed into Harry's lap and leaned against his chest. He absently stroked her hair and tried to empty his mind. It wasn't easy; the skill was the same one needed for Occlumency, which Harry had never managed to master. Still, he did his best not to think about the pressures competing for his attention, and tried to focus instead on Ginny, and the much more pleasurable pressure of all the points where her body touched his.

"You ground me," he said quietly. "Please don't ever leave."

Ginny twisted in his lap to look at him in surprise. "Where would I go?"

Harry shrugged. He knew there was really no chance of it, but he needed to hear that Ginny was sure.

"The press, the public. I didn't really anticipate . . . on top of everything else," he said. "It could get to be . . . too much, or you might need a break or something, I don't know." He waited for her to disagree.

She surprised him, though. "I didn't really think about what other people would think either," she admitted. "It adds another . . . layer, I guess. That we don't need." She put her hand on Harry's cheek. "I'm sure I _will _need a break sometimes, won't you? It would be stupid to pretend everything is just fine and easy all along."

Harry nodded. "That's why Ron left," he said. "We didn't talk about it, or think about what the others needed enough. Until it all exploded." He kissed Ginny's forehead. "Forget what I said just now," he said. "If you need to take a break, or . . . or leave, I'll understand." He kept his voice carefully neutral, but knew she could feel how fast his heart started beating.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You know I'm not one to keep things bottled up inside," she said. "I won't let it get to the point of explosion – for any of us." She pulled his face down towards hers. "And when I need a break, I intend to take it with you. Distractions, remember?"

Harry was embarrassed at the wave of relief he felt from Ginny's words. "I should know better by now," he mumbled, lips finding hers.

Ginny kissed him back and then pulled away. "We're still getting to know each other in some ways," she said. "I'm not going anywhere though. No matter what."

They stopped talking, and in the stillness of the room, Harry began to lose himself with Ginny again.

Neither of them had become nearly distracted enough when Ron's Patronus found them. This time, Harry didn't even bother to move his hand off Ginny's breast while they listened to the message. His erection was gone by the time the terrier finished speaking though, and it was with more than a little reluctance that they both sat up and refastened their clothing.

"Should we have them all come here?" Harry asked. "We could all meet at the Burrow, I guess, but . . ."

"I think here is better," Ginny said. "It's private, and good for George to be somewhere else."

Harry rubbed at his face. "I still can't believe what I did. Didn't expect them to jump on it that fast though. I should have known better."

"They would have figured something was up anyway," said Ginny. "It's not like Rita Skeeter was just going to let us disappear into the privacy of our own lives. At least this way we have a chance of getting out in front of the information before anyone figures out too much."

"Misinformation, you mean," said Harry. "I hope George was able to get ahold of Lee."

George did in fact, find Lee, and soon the group was sitting around the kitchen table in the basement, drinking Firewhiskey and eating some of Kreacher's cakes. George's eyes had clouded over with memories when he arrived, but now he was leaning forward on his elbows, listening intently to Lee as copies of the special Harry Potter-Ginny Weasley "Heroes" edition of the Daily Prophet passed from hand to hand.

"I 'eard Witch Weekly is working on a mini-edition too," said Fleur from the other end of the table. "More focused on 'ze relationship between 'Arry and Ginny, of course."

"Of course," said Harry. "I don't really care if they know that Ginny and I are together, but all that soul bond nonsense has to stop." He didn't know how many of the others at the table had considered – or even understood – the implications of what had happened between him and Ginny, hell, Harry hadn't even talked to Ginny about it. He didn't want rumors about the two of them to get out of hand; there were still Death Eaters at large who might think nothing of trying to gain an advantage. "In fact," he said, thinking quickly. "Maybe you can go a little overboard, slipping details of our romantic life. Fake details, of course."

"Better be fake," said Bill with mock sternness. "Or at least, please, let me believe they're fake."

George was nodding. "We could mention that Harry was seen in the shop buying . . . hmmm. Nothing from the back room, I guess?"

"Definitely not," said Harry and Ginny at the same time. Harry was happy to see George showing interest.

"Maybe something completely offbeat, like those two-minute time turners," mused George. "And . . . a whole bunch of Remembralls maybe. I'm sure we could come up with a good story about that."

Lee looked at Harry. "And you want a sighting of Voldemort's body too, right? His dead body?"

Harry nodded. "If you think you can make it sound legitimate," he said. He looked around the table. "Cause I didn't actually see what happened, at the end. What did everyone see?"

There were glances around the table; no one seemed to want to speak first. Finally, Ron took a deep breath.

"When Ginny's curse hit him, it wasn't like . . . like the spiders," he said. "You know, quiet and immediate." Ron closed his eyes in thought.

"But there wasn't an explosion either, was there?" asked Harry. "Like when he . . . like with my parents."

Ron shook his head. "He kind of, I don't know, stuttered for a second, and then suddenly he was gone."

"That's not exactly what I saw," interrupted Bill. "The curse kind of wrapped around him and he collapsed into it. His eyes were still open."

"I saw his body on the ground, I'm sure of it," added George. "And then it kind of melted into the stones on the floor."

"But there was a big arc of grayish-black light that floated up from him," said Lee. "And I could see the image of the body inside it as it drifted away."

"Did he look dead, when you saw that?" asked Bill. Lee nodded. "I'd say so, although I couldn't tell for sure, I didn't see his face, just the impression of a body." Hermione nodded in agreement. "And it became more indistinct as it floated," she said.

Bills friends, most of who hadn't been there, were muttering among themselves. Harry was encouraged by the animation he saw in their faces. He turned to Ginny.

"What about you?" he asked. "Did you see something like that?"

Ginny shrugged. "I didn't really see anything," she admitted. "As soon as I saw the spell hit, I ran to you."

Harry vaguely remembered a frantic voice and soft hands on his face as Dumbledore had faded away in the flash of green light. "I think I heard you," he said.

Ginny gave him a small smile. "I was pretty loud," she said. "When you opened your eyes, afterwards," – she took a deep breath and Harry saw her lips trembling – "I didn't even know what to think, I couldn't even be relieved at first. I was so shocked."

Harry took her hand. "I was too," he said. "One second I was talking to Dumbledore, hearing that I'd missed getting vital information and the next I was with you, and you'd just done all the hard work for me."

Ginny huffed. "Right, because jumping in front of the Killing Curse was so easy."

Harry kissed her. "It was," he said. "I didn't even have to think about it."

"Oi, didn't we just spend twenty minutes annoyed at the Daily Prophet for debating which of you was the biggest hero? We don't need a rehash." Ron's voice was teasing and everyone at the table chuckled.

Harry nodded. "You're absolutely right, mate. We have much more important things to discuss." He held up his wand. "Like, Accio Firewhiskey!"

HPHPHPHPHP

When George and Lee left an hour later, Ginny could tell that Harry was feeling better. It was not surprising that everyone in the room remembered Voldemort's supposed demise differently, and Lee assured them would make the task of rumor-mongering that much easier. George was in better spirits than Ginny had seen him yet, and she smiled to hear him ask Lee if he thought they should contact Angelina Johnson for help with some of the more "romantic stories."

By then, it was really too late to travel up to Hogwarts, but Bill said another day wouldn't make a big difference; magical signatures didn't dissipate that quickly. While he and Hermione bent over a piece of parchment containing the contract they planned to have the other curse-breakers sign, Fleur came and sat next to Ginny.

"Ron, 'e has been worried," said Fleur. She nodded across the room where Ron and Harry were talking quietly.

Ginny looked at the other witch in surprise. "He has," she agreed. "How did you know?"

Fleur shrugged. "Ron lived with us last year. When 'e . . . wasn't with the others."

Ginny hadn't thought about that. Harry had forgiven Ron – more than forgiven him – and that was all Ginny really needed to know.

"He regretted it immediately, I could tell," Fleur continued. "And he grew a lot. Even Bill noticed." She looked across the room again. "And now, he will do anything he can to 'elp."

"We all will," said Ginny fiercely.

Fleur chuckled. "Yes, there's no question about that," she said. "And we know there is no use in telling any of you to be careful, will it? You are all determined, no matter the danger."

Ginny nodded. "Being careful isn't going to save Harry's life," she said bluntly. "Whatever might have been the easy – or easier – way, is past. Now we have to figure out what else is going to work, and then do it." She knew she probably sounded naïve, practically declaring that there must be an answer, they would find it, and all would be well. But Ginny absolutely wasn't going to let her mind go anywhere else, and certainly not to the _what ifs_ that tried to squeeze into her mind when she wasn't paying attention. To her credit, Fleur nodded in agreement, whatever she might be thinking privately, or discussing with Bill, left unsaid.

Ginny didn't want to think right now; instead, she looked over at Harry and Ron. As if feeling her gaze, Harry looked up at her. She stared back, and even with a half dozen other people in the room, the air grew thick between them.

Ron didn't notice; Fleur did, but didn't say anything when Harry abruptly got up and came over to them, asking to speak to Ginny in private.

In the hallway outside the kitchen, Harry drew Ginny into his arms and tucked her head under his chin.

"Ron has a lot of good thoughts, and questions," he said finally. "It's . . . it's a lot to think about."

Ginny could hear something in Harry's voice. "Ron can see many alternatives at once," she agreed slowly. "It's what makes him so good at chess. But . . . it also makes him able to see how many things can go wrong." Harry's arms tightened around her, and she knew she had guessed at what the two had been discussing.

"I'm glad to have him looking at all the alternatives," said Harry. "We need that, for sure. But we don't even have a plan yet, and hearing about the risks is kind of overwhelming." He looked down at her. "I just want to hear that it's going to be okay, isn't that silly? It's not like I've ever had that confidence before."

"We've never had this much time to think and plan before," pointed out Ginny. "Even the Horcrux hunt began without much warning; you had to figure things out as you went along."

Harry nodded. "We did some planning though," he said. "Like getting into the Ministry and Gringotts." He grimaced. "And both times, things very nearly went pear-shaped."

"And they will again," said Ginny. There was no use trying to pretend they knew any more now than they had before, or that things would suddenly, somehow be easier. Ginny wasn't sure what Harry wanted at this moment, but she knew that what he needed was to sleep. His body had been getting rest these past days, but she was pretty sure he hadn't stopped thinking about everything, even unconsciously. "Have you used the dreamless sleep potion yet? This would be a good night to take some, before we go to Hogwarts tomorrow." Ginny knew she sounded rather like her mum, telling Harry what to do like that. Somewhat to her surprise, he nodded.

"Okay," he said. "It's back at the Burrow though. Should I stay there tonight? If I take the potion, I won't be kept up by Ron's snoring. And that way, we can all get an early start. There's going to be a lot to do at Hogwarts. What do you think? Or would it be better if I stayed here?"

Ginny made the decision. "The Burrow," she said. She knew her parents wanted her and Ron there for at least a few more days, and there was no question that Harry shouldn't be alone at Grimmauld Place; his outburst today had been all the evidence Ginny needed that. It was overprotective, but she decided that it was up to her to make sure Harry wasn't by himself right now. Even though he was more than capable of taking care of himself, Ginny didn't want him having to make the effort that required.

_Overprotective for sure._

She shrugged. If he didn't like it, he would tell her.

But Harry was more than agreeable about going home with her. He even chatted casually with Ron and Hermione - and ribbed Hermione gently about when she might start the research needed for her to-do list – as they said goodbye to the curse-breakers until the morning and prepared to Apparate back to the Burrow.

There was a certain relief, Ginny decided, in getting the funerals behind them. No one was particularly happy, to be sure, but the heavy pit of anticipation she'd had in her stomach all week was gone. Harry's outburst seemed to have eased some of the tension he'd been feeling too, and when he mentioned that he didn't want to take the dreamless sleep potion until he'd made sure that his body was as tired as his mind, Ginny was more than happy to oblige.

The excuses they made to go alone to her room were thin, but no one objected. Ron and Hermione had disappeared already anyway. The days of her mum worrying about reputations and scarlet women were past.

Upstairs, Harry fumbled with the buttons on her shirt and pulled off his own, kissing her gently at first, and then more insistently. She pressed herself up against him and felt as he lengthened and hardened against her stomach, and when he shuffled them both over towards her bed she pulled him right down on top of her.

"I think I want to . . ." Harry began, but a loud noise outside her room made them both jump.

"George and Fred's . . . George's door," said Ginny. "We must have forgotten the silencing charms." She reached for her wand, but Harry stopped her.

"I set wards so no one can get in or hear us," he said. "But not ones to keep out outside sounds." He shrugged. "Something I learned last year, to always be able to hear anything coming."

Ginny nodded. "That makes sense," she said. "As long as no one can hear us."

"They can't," Harry assured her. He stretched out long on top of her and fit himself between her legs with a groan. "That feels so good," he muttered.

Ginny thrust up. "And what about this, does it feel good too?" She thrust again.

Harry shivered. "Even better," he said. He wrapped his arms around her back and lowered his mouth to hers for what Ginny hoped would be some extended snogging before they moved on to other things. Indeed, Harry's lips were playful, running across her jaw and down to her neck before finding her lips again. She opened her mouth to his and was enjoying the taste of him – treacle and Firewhiskey – on her tongue, when an eerie moan made him stop.

"Is that . . . ?" he began.

Ginny nodded. "The ghoul in the attic sometimes gets bored," she said. "He likes to yell down the pipes."

Harry shook his head. "Couldn't he have bothered Ron and Hermione instead?" He wiggled against her. "Although, Ron's probably finished ages ago," he said with a grin. He wiggled again. "And we're just getting started."

"Just don't mention my brother again, please," said Ginny breathlessly. Harry was doing something with his tongue that matched the tiny pulses he was making lower down, and her thoughts were becoming scattered.

"I promise," said Harry solemnly. He moved a hand down and Ginny couldn't hold back a gasp.

_Tap tap tap. _

"Ignore it, it's just a tree branch," said Ginny. She moved her hand down to find Harry's. "More of this, please."

_Tap tap tap._

"Ginny, I don't think . . ."

"I . . . don't' . . . care . . . Harry. Keep doing . . . what you're doing."

_Tap tap tap._

It was no use. The owl at the window was insistent, and Harry and Ginny both sighed when he moved his hand out of her trousers. She peered out the window.

"It's Bill's," she said.

Harry jumped up to let the mottled black bird inside. "Something must have happened,"

The note attached to the owl's leg contained new language for the magical contract Bill wanted his friends to sign, and a request they run it by Hermione. Harry read it and then ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Why didn't he just send this to Hermione straight away?"

Ginny snorted. "Because Bill doesn't care as much about what Ron might be doing in his bedroom as I'm doing in mine." She ruffled the owl's feathers. "Overprotective git."

Harry groaned and flopped back onto Ginny's bed. "Between slamming doors and ghouls and older brothers, I think the Burrow should be the last place we ever try to be alone," he said.

Ginny carefully attached something to the owl's leg and sent it back into the night. "Bill will think twice about interrupting us once he opens that note," she said with a grin. "It's going to make his bits shrink for two days."

Harry chuckled. "Remind me never to get on your bad side," he said. He stood up. "I guess the rest of tonight's activities should wait until later, after Hogwarts. Merlin knows, we aren't going to be able to do anything else here." He held up Bill's note. "I'll give this to Hermione before sending her back down." He grimaced. "I hope she didn't fall asleep in Ron's bed."

Ginny kissed him lightly. "If she did, come back down and share with me," she said.

Harry kissed her back. "I love you, but not a chance. The floorboards would probably rise up and smack me or something."

She swatted him out the door. "The house will get used to you, I promise."

HPHPHPHPHP

No matter how he spun it, Harry had to admit that going to Hogwarts had been a failure. Sure, it might be a good thing to know that Voldemort hadn't left any magical residue when he'd . . . disappeared or disintegrated or whatever he'd done when Ginny had cursed him, but it was difficult to get too excited about a lot of nothing. And maybe it was somewhat cathartic to be forced to see the castle and all its damage again so soon (George's stopping to vomit notwithstanding), but it certainly didn't make Harry or any of them feel particularly good. At the most, it made him want to come back to help with the rebuilding, but he knew he would have done that anyway. The sun was setting and Ginny's hand was soft in his as they walked down the path towards Hogsmeade and the Apparition point. She kept glancing at him, and he knew she was worried that he was about to explode again, but for the moment, his mind was strangely calm as he reviewed the events of the day.

_Bill and his friends fanned out grimly, tracing the steps Harry and Ron and Hermione had walked, from the Room of Requirement, to the grounds, through the castle and to the Shrieking Shack where they discovered – to their dismay – that no one had thought to remove Snape's body. One by one, Patronuses reported back that no, there was nothing to be found, no sign of dark magic, no hint of a trap, no trace of a Horcrux. _

_Undeterred, Harry and Kingsley went to the Headmaster's office only to find Dumbledore's portrait as unhelpful and distraught as the man had been in Harry's mind at King's Cross. _

"_I'm sorry, Harry, that I have to ask you, once again, to forgive an old man's failings." The portrait sighed. "My intellect being what it is, my plans tend to be grander than most. Alas, that means my mistakes are as well."_

_Harry made an impatient gesture. "But you know more about Horcruxes than almost anyone, and you've known for years and years that I have one inside me. You must have some ideas."_

_Dumbledore closed his eyes before answering. "I have gone over it and over it in my mind, Harry. Yes, I have solutions." He opened his eyes. "But so far, I have not been able to come up with one that does not result in your death."_

_Harry and Kingsley left soon after that, meeting up with Ron and Hermione after their trip down to the Chamber of Secrets where, not surprisingly, they had found nothing of use. Harry shook his head quickly to let them know Dumbledore had been no help; their identical looks of disappointment as familiar as the rest. _

"_Do you think the library's intact?" Hermione's eyes darted down the corridor. Harry shook his head. _

"_Ginny went there with Fleur," he said. "They sent me a Patronus; it's in pretty bad shape right now."_

_Another look of disappointment, and Harry had been ready to call it a day. He thanked Bill's friends profusely, and promised to call of them again if the need arose, and then suggested that everyone else go back to the Burrow._

He didn't know why he wasn't more upset. Hogwarts had been their one true lead and now they were without any idea what to do next. But if he was honest with himself, Harry knew he'd be in this position eventually, with no ideas and no leads and everything feeling hopeless. It had just happened earlier than expected. Now maybe they could start from scratch, he told himself. He squeezed Ginny's hand.

"It's going to be okay," he promised.


	5. Five

Grimmauld Place was blessedly quiet after several days at the Burrow. Harry held Ginny's hand as they walked together upstairs to the freshly restored master bedroom. They smiled shyly at each other as they contemplated the large bed in the center of room and Harry's heart leapt.

"You're absolutely sure?" he asked quietly. Ginny had been unwavering in her readiness during long nights of talking the past few days, but maybe it was different now that the moment was here.

"It was my idea in the first place, Harry," she reminded him. She squeezed his hand. "I was certain then and I'm certain now." She was quiet for a moment. "Are you?"

Harry nodded. He'd been surprised, to be sure, when Ginny first brought it up, particularly because everyone else had been acting slightly odd around him after their failure at Hogwarts. Measured by the number of furtive glances he intercepted over the next few days, Harry suspected that they all were waiting for another explosion from him. Hermione had touched his arm and asked "okay there, Harry?" so many times he'd begun starting all conversations with her with "fine, Hermione, thanks," before she even opened her mouth. Ron asked far too often if Harry wanted to go for a fly or play chess, Bill had come round every day to reassure Harry that _the curse breakers were working night and day, learning more about Horcruxes_, and even Kingsley had been sending regular Patronuses describing the details of Ron and Harry's imminent initiation into a "special investigatory Auror division" that Harry suspected had been created solely for the two of them.

Ginny alone seemed to understand that Harry's reticence was not an avoidance mechanism, but merely a _breather_ before things got difficult. She was a more than welcome distraction while Harry took personal advantage of the fact that, for the moment, the pit in his stomach and urgency in his brain seemed to be on hiatus.

He couldn't explain why he really did feel okay, for now at least, but the clarity he'd gotten after leaving Dumbledore's portrait had lingered. It had probably helped that Lee and George had broadcast their first Potterwatch just the night before. It had been a short – but truly brilliant – series of interviews with no less than a dozen people who had all taken part in the disposal of Voldemort's body after the battle. Harry was particularly fond of the part featuring Portia Polkiss, who had personally knitted the shroud used to wrap the body. _I didn't drop a single stitch, not for something so important as making sure He Who Shall Not Be Named is never viewed by human eyes again! _ Harry still laughed to remember the pride in the woman's voice; he didn't remember how Piers' mum had really sounded and he didn't feel guilty at all lending her name for Lee and George's use.

But Harry wasn't delusional; he knew that pretty soon, he was going to have to face the fact that plans and decisions needed to be made. He'd admitted as much to Ginny during one of their late night discussions; he'd known, correctly, that she wouldn't take it as an invitation to jump out of bed and start working straightaway.

Instead, she'd trailed her fingers up Harry's bare chest and told him, with no hesitation at all, that she was _ready_, if he was.

_Harry froze as Ginny's words sunk in. She stopped moving too, and waited. _

"_Not because you think I'm going to die." It wasn't a question._

"_Of course not," said Ginny easily. She didn't sound surprised that this was Harry's first reaction. "We both know that's one possibility; we'd be stupid not to recognize it. But . . . however this is going to end, it's not imminent."_

_Not for the first time, Harry appreciated Ginny's forthrightness. "I'm feeling okay right now," he admitted. "Despite what everyone else seems to think."_

_Ginny nodded. "I know. But that's not the reason either." She waited again, and soon Harry got there himself._

"_I'm in love with you," he said quietly. "As you know, of course."_

_Ginny chuckled. "I do. And I'm in love with you."_

_Harry continued. "And . . . I want to be with you, in every way. Emotionally and . . . physically. Not because I might die, but in spite of it."_

"_Yes," said Ginny simply. "That's how I feel."_

_There was more Harry needed to say. "If things had ended differently though, if I'd been able to kill Voldemort the way I was meant to, if you hadn't had to . . . then maybe . . ."_

"_Maybe it would have taken longer for us to get to this moment," said Ginny. "But we would have gotten here."_

_Harry relaxed. "No question there. And as much as we can wish we were in another, better situation, we're not. And in this situation, I want to make love with you, if you want to."_

"_It was my idea, remember?" said Ginny, amusement in her voice. She looked around her small room and her brow wrinkled. "But not here, I don't think. Not tonight."_

Harry had refused any manner of sneaking out or subterfuge. He didn't know if Ginny's parents knew exactly what they had planned when Ginny had asked to spend the night at Grimmauld Place so Harry could have a bit of quiet, but they had not protested. The situation now was different for everyone.

Now, he didn't want to rush. He'd sent Kreacher to Hogwarts for the night – the elf had been more than happy to help start rebuilding the kitchens there – and Ron and Hermione were expected for lunch tomorrow. He nodded to Ginny again.

"I'm sure," he said.

He took Ginny's face in his hands and kissed her gently, first on the forehead, and then the tip of her nose, and finally her lips. He dropped his hands down to meet hers at their sides and they stood silently in the growing darkness watching each other.

And then Ginny quietly lit the lamps and Harry said the necessary spells and then asked Ginny if he could undress her.

"Yes, please," she replied, and so Harry carefully undid buttons and hooks, and knelt in front of her to slide her trousers down to the floor. He kissed her stomach and she tangled her fingers in his hair to pull him closer. When her knickers had followed her trousers, Ginny pulled Harry to his feet and silently helped him with his own shirt and jeans and pants.

It was different than when they'd seen each other unclothed that first time, in her room. Then they had been trying to find anything that might distract them from reality – stolen moments between the general horribleness. Harry remembered that day generally, but was ashamed to realize that the details were fuzzy. This time felt indulgent and personal.

There was a brief moment of shyness that soon gave way to curiosity and exploration – Harry was as fascinated by Ginny's curves and mounds and secret places as she was with the way he jutted out towards her, nothing to hide. He didn't know what felt better, having Ginny's hands on him or his own inside her and he was glad he didn't have to choose. After a bit of awkward maneuvering, they managed both at once.

Whey they were lying together on the bed, the covers pushed back and bunched around their ankles, Harry finally spoke. "I've heard it's better for a witch, the first time, if she umm . . . has already . . . finished. Before." Harry stroked down between them to where his fingers had already explored. "I think I can, if you want." He gave Ginny a kiss. "I don't want you to hurt."

"I think it always hurts the first time," said Ginny. "It really can't be helped." She gave a small smirk. "But if you want to try something to make it hurt less, I wouldn't mind at all."

Harry grinned and moved his hand more purposefully. "Like this? In and out?" he asked.

Ginny closed her eyes and her back arched as she pushed against Harry's hand. "Mmhmm," she mumbled. "From the book?'

"I told you about that?"

"Last time, in my room."

That was another detail Harry hadn't remembered. He was pretty sure, however, that he hadn't mentioned exactly where the book had come from, by owl mail order, helpfully disguised to look like a particularly boring History of Magic text. Fred and George had been responsible for giving Harry and his friends a much more thorough sex education than was provided by the school, and now he said a silent prayer of apology to George – and Fred – about how he was about to use their knowledge.

Ginny already seemed quite pleased with what Harry was doing with his fingers – in, swirl around, press up, out – but that he knew that wouldn't bring her to finish. Last time, he was pretty sure, he'd just gone right for her clit (the hours he'd spent studying the blinking diagrams and flashing arrows had really helped there). This time, Harry thought a little more finesse was called for. He shifted onto his side and propped himself up on his other arm so he could see better, and carefully moved his thumb across the space above where his fingers were delving in and out. On his third pass, Ginny made a new sound, and encouraged, Harry pushed down gently on that spot.

Almost immediately, Ginny moved her own hand down to cover his.

"Right there, Harry," she panted. Harry made an experimental circle with his thumb and Ginny made that sound again.

"What should I do, press it? Or are the circles better?" he asked. He couldn't keep his eyes away as Ginny threw her head back and bucked against him.

"Don't . . . care . . . don't . . . stop," she huffed, and one of her own fingers was on top of his thumb, and they were both pushing and making circles and moving more and more erratically and Harry stopped trying to remember what he'd read and just went with it.

Ginny climaxed a remarkably short time later; her cry of pleasure caused Harry to involuntarily thrust his erection into her thigh. _How long did the book say a bloke should wait after a witch has an orgasm to move on to sex? _However long it was felt like an eternity to Harry, whose eagerness for his own release was rapidly becoming unbearable.

Still, he forced himself to wait, and was rewarded with the sight of Ginny slowly coming back to herself, a small, private smile on her face. Harry lay patiently next to her, gently stroking down her arm and only occasionally stopping to adjust himself in a vain attempt to control his arousal.

She finally opened her eyes and found his. "Harry," she said, her voice languid and content. "That was . . . spectacular."

Harry forgot about his own needs for a moment. He flushed, pleased. "It was? I wasn't sure, I mean, last time I just . . . I didn't really think about it." He flexed his fingers; they were a little stiff. "This time, I wanted to try . . . I was concentrating on it. I wasn't sure it would work."

"It worked. It more than worked," smiled Ginny. "I feel so good right now." She shuffled a little bit, and when her thigh brushed against him her eyes opened wide. She looked down. "But you're still . . . I mean, we have to . . . I almost forgot!"

Harry chuckled despite himself. "I think that's usually the bloke's problem" he said. "That's why we're supposed to make sure the witch is taken care of first."

Ginny put her hands on his hips. "I don't think I have to ask if you're ready?" She tugged him on top of her.

Harry stilled. "I am, more than ready," he admitted. "But . . . I want to make sure. That you are." His words were measured and calm, but there was no hiding the hitch in his voice or the way he involuntarily strained towards Ginny, and particularly towards the warm space between her legs.

Instead of answering, Ginny opened her legs a little wider and bent her knees on either side of him. Without giving it too much more thought, Harry slid inside her, only belatedly remembering that he should try to go slowly.

"Sorry, sorry, Ginny," he managed. It just felt so damn _good. _He pushed up on his elbows so he could see her face. Her smile was rather pained, but when she caught his eye, Ginny put her hands on his bum and held him in place.

"It's . . . it's okay," she gasped. "Just give me a second to get used to it."

Vaguely, Harry thought he should ask if she was sure, wanted to offer to pull out, but his body was having none of it. The best he could do was wiggle in place to keep from thrusting and hope he could hold off his climax just a little bit longer. Ginny's hands loosened on his bum, and Harry took that as an invitation to move. He tried to control it, pulling out and thrusting back in, but although he was able to slow down the withdrawal, the _in_ seemed to happen completely apart from his brain. He thought he heard Ginny make a quiet _oof_ when he thrust again, but then the third time, she raised her hips to meet him, and that was quite the end of it. Harry climaxed at the top of the thrust, his arms suddenly so shaky that he couldn't help but collapse on top of Ginny even as he was still pulsing inside of her.

The sound she made now had a hint of amusement in it as she ran her fingers up and down his back and let him breathe heavily into her neck. Finally, he lifted his head to look at her.

"That was . . . wow." He slipped his hand under her head to lift her into a kiss.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," said Ginny, and there was definitely a laugh in her voice. "Was it as good as you thought it would be?"

"Better," Harry said immediately. He thought for a moment. "But also different. I didn't think I'd be so out of control. It was almost impossible for me not to move, no matter how much I told myself to stay still."

Ginny chuckled again. "How far did you read in that book?" she asked. "I think a bloke losing control the first time is practically required."

Harry gave her a mock frown. "And who here lost themselves so much after their orgasm that they couldn't even remember they were supposed to have sex next?

Ginny swatted at him. "Prat. You should be proud of that, you and your magic fingers."

"Almost as good as my magic wand, eh?" asked Harry cheekily. Ginny swatted him again. "That's almost the oldest cliché in the book, Potter. Next, I bet you tell me that you want to ride me like a Nimbus."

"Nah, you're much more Firebolt material," said Harry contentedly. He reached down and pulled the covers up over them and Ginny snuggled into his side. "Can we sleep naked?" he asked.

"Sure," said Ginny. She yawned. "I didn't know sex would make me so tired though."

"Best kind of tired there is, I'd think," said Harry. He sighed. "That was absolutely brilliant, by the way," he said. "Thank you."

"Thank you too," said Ginny sleepily. "I love you."

"And I love you," said Harry softly. He waved his wand and turned out the lamps. The noises from the street outside were muted and the air in the room was supremely still. Harry tried his best to drink in the peace, knowing how fleeting it was likely to be. He kissed Ginny's hair. "Sleep well," he said, before closing his eyes.

_HPHPHPHP_

Harry was a bundle of nerves the next morning. Ron and Hermione were coming for an early lunch and Harry was certain Ron would take one look at him and just know Harry had _defiled _his sister the night before. He let Ginny cajole him into the shower with her, but even then, insisted that the most they could do was to use their hands on each other. It didn't take long – they were both becoming adept at knowing each other's bodies – and afterwards, Harry insisted they get fully dressed before mussing up the sheets and blankets in a second bedroom, "just in case Ron checks."

"It's not really my brother you're worried about, is it?" Ginny had been going along with all of Harry's jittery activity that morning, listening to him prattle on about whether the hallways smelled like sex, and _did she think they could charm the portraits not to talk?_ without objection. Now she wrapped her arms around him from behind as he peered into the icebox for the luncheon foods Kreacher had left the day before.

"Not really, no," Harry admitted. He pulled out a platter and set it on the table. "But I'm glad Kreacher made fish and chips, that will put Ron in an especially good mood." He lifted his wand. "Do you remember the spell to warm this up?"

Ginny leaned around him with her wand and said the spell. Immediately, the platter of fish and chips glowed bubbled until it appeared to have been cooked only moments before. Harry gave an appreciative hum. "Nice one, I usually burn stuff." He turned back to the kitchen counter. "Should we set the table or just let Ron and Hermione get their own plates and silverware?"

"You're changing the subject," said Ginny. She guided Harry to a chair and gently pushed him into it. "Why don't you tell me what's really on your mind before Ron and Hermione get here? We're going to get there eventually anyway, and thinking it out loud of ahead of time will lesson the chance that you try to avoid hard topics by accidentally blurting out that we had sex last night." Ginny raised her eyebrows at him, but her expression was understanding. She gave him a kiss. "I think I know already, but I want to hear you say it."

Harry sighed. He knew Ginny was absolutely right about everything – including the fact that he needed to be warned about the risks of revealing too much to Ron. He'd been telling himself for the past few days to prepare for this, but reminding himself during idle moments and finally staring it in the face were proving to be quite different. He leaned against Ginny.

"I'm jealous," he confessed. "Jealous of the life I should be able to have now, if everything had gone right. And . . . I think part of the reason I've felt . . . okay . . . these past few days is that that other life was so close, it was too easy to let myself slip into it with you." He shook his head. "Maybe it would have been better to just stay panicked and angry."

"You would have missed out on last night, then," Ginny pointed out. "I wasn't going to accept anything less than carefree and fully present for my first time." She leaned over the back of the chair and wrapped her arms around him. "You needed the break, and I, for one, am very glad you took it."

"I'm glad too," Harry admitted. "I just can't help but wish we were still on the other side of getting ready to have sex for the first time, instead of here, preparing to have a big, serious talk with Ron and Hermione."

Ginny shuddered lightly. "I'm happy to have sex with you again, whenever you want, but let's leave the first time back where it is, okay?"

Harry chuckled. "I'll try to make it up to you tonight."

The lighthearted moment ended with the arrival of Ron and Hermione. One look at their faces and Harry was more than certain that his two best friends had definitely not spent the last evening in the same pursuit as Harry and Ginny had. They didn't even seem to be disagreeing; both of them wore the same rather gloomy look Harry had begun to associate with how pretty much everyone close to him looked now, _after._

Hermione also looked exhausted, and Harry felt a pang of guilt.

"You haven't been staying up this entire time trying to solve the entire Horcrux problem in a week, have you?" he chided her gently.

Hermione waved him off. "It's important, Harry, and not just for you." She took a seat at the table and Ron hurried to pull up a chair next to her.

"Voldemort's still a danger to everyone, no matter what Potterwatch is getting them to believe," agreed Ron. "So stop making this all about you, okay?" He rolled his eyes.

"So Potterwatch, it's working then? Do most people believe Voldemort's really gone?" Ginny levitated over plates and a jug of pumpkin juice. Hermione looked up in alarm. "Ginny! Don't you still have the Trace on you? You shouldn't be doing magic here!"

Ron, Harry and Ginny all gave snorts of amusement. "I think the Ministry has bigger things to worry about right now," said Ginny dryly. She passed out the cups. "Besides, who's to say that it wasn't Harry doing all the work here, cooking and serving the food?" She gave him a pointed look. "We need napkins and the sauce for the fish."

Harry jumped up and got them while Hermione chuckled at herself. "Sorry," she told Ginny. "My mind's been in a million places lately." She looked at Harry. "But Lee came round last night and told us that all he's hearing is that people seem to believe that Voldemort is dead. He and George were pleased. They're already planning the next broadcast."

"George was also rather interested in your absence, Harry," said Ron casually. "And yours too, Ginny. Seemed to wonder what was wrong with the bedrooms at the Burrow." He raised his eyebrows. "I told him I had no idea, but maybe he'd want to stop by here later on."

Harry matched Ron's casualness. "Fine with me," he said. He looked at Ginny as if just thinking of something. "Make sure you make you bed later, I wouldn't want George reporting back to your mum that you aren't keeping your room here clean."

Harry just managed to dodge the roll Ron threw at him. "Nice try," he said. "Besides, I figure you're doing all the hard work, getting everyone used to you and Ginny staying here. They won't bat an eye when Hermione and I join you."

"_If_ I let you stay here," said Harry. "I haven't decided yet." In fact, Harry assumed that he and Ginny would be heading back to the Burrow that evening; the fact that they might be allowed – even expected – to stay longer at Grimmauld Place was intriguing. He looked at Ginny, trying to gauge her opinion.

Hermione interrupted.

"It would be helpful, if we could stay here," she said. "The library has a number of really old books that I think might be useful. Dark Magic and things."

"We should have this discussion in the library then, after we finish eating." Harry gestured to the table. "Kreacher made it, don't worry."

His joke fell flat; none of them had any illusions about why they were there. The silence was more uncomfortable than it should have been between the four of them and Harry scrambled for something to ease the tension. He turned to Ron.

"Weren't you saying that George and Lee were planning a second Potterwatch?"

Ron nodded, mid-swallow, and took a gulp of pumpkin juice before answering. "They want to talk to you first though, to make sure they give out the right misinformation and don't actually say, you know, something that's the truth." He picked up a muffin, started to put it in his mouth, and then put it down again. "I told George you needed to figure out what the truth is, first, and then you'll reach out to him."

"You mean _we_ need to figure out what the truth is," said Ginny. Harry looked at her gratefully. He knew Ron hadn't meant that this was Harry's burden alone, knew that he and Hermione were in as deep as Harry and Ginny were. Still, it was comforting to hear it said.

"Course," said Ron. He waved the half-eaten muffin in the air for emphasis. "But we still need to tell George something soon. Before people's attention starts to wane."

"I do have some ideas," said Hermione. "Not a lot, not as many as I'd hoped, but it's a start." She looked at Ron. "When you're finally done, we can all go to the library."

To his credit, Ron took the hint and pushed back his chair. "I'm taking these," he said, grabbing the basket of muffins.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Should we clean up?" she asked Harry.

He shook his head. "Kreacher would kill me," he said. "Let him see that we ate all the food he made."

They all trooped up to the library.

"I didn't think there was anything useful up here," he said to Hermione. The bookshelves covered two walls of the room, but the books on them were interspersed with knickknacks and empty space, and looked to be more ornamental than containing anything that might help. A wide, heavy volume on a bookstand by the fireplace was open to what looked like an extensive wizarding genealogy of all the pureblood families going back hundreds of years. Harry walked over to one of the shelves and started reading titles. "Poems for the Full Moon? A History of Gobstones? The Art and Magic of Tapestry Weaving?" He turned back around. "I don't think these are going to help."

"That's what I thought too," said Hermione briskly. She was sounding more awake and like herself, now that she was the one with the knowledge and surrounded by books. "But since the Hogwarts library is currently unavailable, I began doing some research about where else we might find books on Dark Magic. It turns out that a lot of wizarding families kept fairly extensive libraries, carefully disguised to look respectable." She walked over to join Harry. "My research pointed to one such library being kept at the various homes inhabited by members of the House of Black." She pulled out her wand. "And since all those other homes no longer exist, anything important would have been transferred here, the last Black residence." She waved her wand at the shelves in a swinging, back and forth motion, chanting the spell, _Liberati Libraria_. Each time Hermione pointed her wand at a shelf and said the incantation, the books and things on it seemed to fold in on themselves for a moment. What reappeared looked much more like a proper library – rows and rows of books and texts that reminded Harry of the Restricted Section of the library at Hogwarts.

"Brilliant!" he breathed. Everyone gathered around the closest shelf. "Secrets of the Darkest Arts – they have that book at school," he said. He reached for another, a blood red volume titled "Death and her Minions."

"Wait, don't touch yet!" said Hermione. She threw her arm across his chest and Harry pulled his hand back just in time. "They're probably all cursed somehow, at least to prevent just anyone from taking them off the shelves."

Harry looked at his hand, which had been just inches from grabbing the book. "Thanks," he muttered.

"We should get Bill in here, he can break the curses," said Ron. "Him and his friends."

Harry nodded. "Good idea. We can contact them tonight." He took Ginny's hand and pulled her onto one of the sofas. "But I assume there are things we can talk about now, even without the books?"

Hermione sat with Ron on the sofa opposite and pulled out a long piece of parchment, floating it into the air to hover between them. Written across the top in bold strokes were the words _Harry's Horcrux Problem – Notes and Ideas._

Below that were a column of words in Hermione's small, neat handwriting, too small to be made out easily. Harry stood up to peer at the words and Hermione made a sound of apology.

"Oh, right, let me enlarge it." She waved her wand and the words expanded to reveal that they were a list, sort of a to-do list, with the first several items marked "done". Harry looked closer.

1\. Research private libraries – Dark Wizard Families (Black!) DONE

2\. Spell to reveal hidden texts DONE

3\. Break curses on books – BILL WEASLEY?

4\. Non-Corporeal Power

5\. Sentient Horcruxes

6\. Intent/Knowledge

7\. Where is Voldemort now – ALBANIA AGAIN?

8\. Resurrection, possession, inhabitation

9\. Blood protection?

10\. Harry/Ginny connection – sacrificial power?

Harry read down the list, feeling his stomach sink. When he got to the end, he shook his head. "No," he said. "Absolutely not."

Ginny had been reading too. "What's wrong? I think it's a good start; it seems to cover everything I've been thinking about these past days. And I assume Hermione has thought about each one in a lot more detail, right?" Ginny turned and looked at the other witch.

Hermione nodded. "I didn't want to overwhelm you with all my notes yet. I've got some thoughts on each part of this list, and hopefully the books, once free from the curse – will give us more information and suggest a plan going forward."

Harry wasn't listening. He jabbed his finger at the bottom of the list. "I know what these mean and I won't have it."


	6. Six

The library had never been a particularly inviting room - not that any at Grimmauld Place really were – but at that moment, it seemed more bleak than usual. Harry's wand had burned a small hole in the bottom of the parchment where he'd jabbed it and the smell of burnt paper made him feel like the entire space was about to burst into flames. No one else spoke.

Harry tried again.

"We're not using Ginny's blood, not for anything. I'll die first. I mean it." His voice rose.

"What? Ginny's blood? Who said anything about Ginny's blood?" Ron blustered, looking back and forth between Harry and Ginny. Ginny shook her head at the same time. "Getting rather melodramatic already, aren't we, Harry?" she asked dryly.

Harry ignored them both and turned to Hermione. "That's what you meant, isn't it? _Blood protection and sacrifice. _Ginny's blood has my protection in it now, and you want to exploit that to save my life." He huffed. "I won't have it. Find another way." He jumped up off the couch and began pacing. _Why hadn't he seen it himself? Written out on Hermione's parchment, it was so obvious. _And the worst part was, Harry could see why it made sense. Voldemort himself had wanted Harry's blood, containing Lily's protection. Now, Ginny's was just as valuable. He didn't know if Hermione had any specific ideas about how to use it yet, but she was brilliant about these things; it was just a matter of time.

And Ginny would go along with it, of that Harry was certain – just like he would, if the situation was reversed. But it wasn't reversed, it was Ginny's blood they were talking about. And if Hermione figured out that it was valuable, there was no question that Voldemort would too – maybe already had - and would stop at nothing to get it. Harry's thoughts swirled around the possibilities, arriving at the only one he could stomach.

"But then, it . . . it could protect her, though. Couldn't it?" Harry looked at Hermione. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but he kept talking. "We don't have to use it for me; it will still protect her from him. Right?" He knew he wasn't making much sense, indeed, Ron had stepped closer to the parchment, as if seeing the words up close would explain some deeper meaning. But Harry didn't stop to explain. "That's okay, of course. Not that we have a choice anyway, it's already in her. But we aren't using it for anything other than to keep Ginny safe, understand?" It probably wasn't an accident that Harry stopped pacing right in front of her. She looked at him with fond annoyance, and Harry finally quieted. "It's not exactly my decision, what we do, is it? Not mine alone, at least."

The annoyance slipped off Ginny's face. "It's not," she said. She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the sofa. "But it's good that you realized it before I told you. You aren't the only one who doesn't want everyone else taking stupid risks on their behalf."

Harry sat and rubbed his eyes. "I just can't believe I didn't see it." He looked at Hermione. "It's low on the list, that has to mean there are other possibilities, right?"

Again, Hermione opened her mouth to speak. This time, it was Ron who interrupted.

"Can someone exactly what you're all going on about? Who wants to sacrifice Ginny's blood?"

Hermione waved her wand, and the (now rather empty) basket of muffins flew to her side. "If you'd focus on something other than you stomach," she said pointedly. "You'd have gotten there too by now."

Ron gave her a sheepish smile. "Kreacher's muffins are almost as good as mum's," he said. He sat up straight on the sofa. "But I'm done now."

Hermione nodded. "Okay then," she said. "What it means, _blood protection, _is that . . ."

"Uh, Hermione? Do you mind if I explain instead?" Harry hated to interrupt her again, but he couldn't stand the thought of listening to someone else talk about it. Already, the easy, _it's okay_ feeling of the past few days had morphed back into the heavy mantle of _how the hell do we fix this, _and lacking an answer to that question, the least Harry could do was talk about what he did understand.

Hermione shrugged. "Sure, Harry." She sat down next to Ron. Harry took a deep breath.

"It's like when my mum jumped in front of the Avada Kedavra to prevent Voldemort from killing me," he said. "It gave me some protection from him. He couldn't physically touch me, remember? When he was possessing Quirrell?" He looked around the room. None of this was a surprise to Hermione, and Harry could see that Ginny understood too. Ron was shaking his head.

"But . . . but you aren't Ginny's . . . I mean, you're just her . . . her what, boyfriend?" When no one answered, Ron went on. "Don't you have to be a parent, for that to work?"

Harry knew what he thought, but didn't want to explain, not right now. He shrugged. "Hermione?"

Hermione looked as uncomfortable as Harry felt. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Normally, to create that kind of protection, there would need to be a particularly close familial bond, parent to child being the strongest." She'd started pacing, tracing the same path Harry had.

"There isn't a lot written on it, not that I could get access too, at least. The Unspeakables study it in the Ministry of Magic." She gave Harry an apologetic look. "They began after your parents died."

Harry wished he'd known that; the thought that others, that _strangers_ had been analyzing his mother's love for him all these years was discomforting, especially now. He remembered the room with the spinning doors in the lowest level of the Ministry and wondered which one hid the information behind it and whether it could help them now. He gave Hermione a sharp look.

"You don't think Voldemort knows about that, do you? Would he go there?"

Hermione looked even more uncomfortable. She wrung her hands. "I just don't know, Harry. Like I said, I'm even assuming that you gave Ginny the same type of protection as your mum did to you." She looked at Ron.

"It's a guess, just a guess. But Harry's feelings for Ginny are strong – we know that. Even without a formal . . . bond, there's a good chance that Harry gave Ginny's blood some sort of protection when he jumped in front of Voldemort's curse." She shook her head. "We just don't know how it works. Unlike with Harry and his mum, Voldemort fortunately didn't have another chance to try to kill Ginny."

"Thank Merlin," agreed Ron. He seemed to want to say more, but eventually sat back against the sofa.

"What kind of bond do you mean, Hermione?" Ginny's voice was soft. "You know I don't believe in all that soul bond nonsense, no matter what the others say." She turned to Harry before he could interrupt her.

"We didn't tell you; it was right after . . . everything. I didn't know what it meant and I didn't want to add anything else for you to think about. I got owls and things."

Harry nodded. "I did too. Asking for interviews. I ignored them."

Ginny nodded, unsurprised. "If you didn't read the entire letters you would have missed it. There are certain people who think that what happened at the battle, particularly with your . . . return, after you saved my life, is evidence that you and I have a soul bond."

Harry wished he'd paid more attention to the identities of the senders of the owls. "What kinds of people think this? The Witch Weekly types?" He didn't really care if anyone thought his and Ginny's relationship was front-cover worthy of that type of magazine. Indeed, as Lee had suggested, the more ridiculously mushy they could make things sound, the farther the general public would be from knowing the truth – whatever that truth may be.

Ginny nodded. "One was, yes," she said. "But another was from the Ministry. They contacted us again, the day we were at Hogwarts. I still haven't responded."

"Us?" asked Harry. "I didn't get an owl."

"They sent just one; the owl came to me," Ginny explained. "I think the Unspeakable who sent it assumed that with a soul bond, we wouldn't be very far apart from each other."

"But we don't have one, do we? A soul bond? I don't even know what that is exactly." Harry looked at Hermione, waiting for her to explain.

"You don't," she confirmed. "A soul bond, if such a thing really exists, is a magical and connection between two people that let's them do things like share thoughts and emotions, and even power. It's almost a symbiotic relationship, and if one member of the pair is hurt or killed, it can have a grave impact on the other."

"Sounds more like Harry and Voldemort than Harry and Ginny," remarked Ron.

"Fuck, it does," said Harry. He started pacing again. "And he must know it, right? That I'm a Horcrux? Because otherwise, Ginny's curse would have killed him." His thoughts tunneled. _Voldemort must know he can't kill me, not without killing himself. _He almost said as much; for the briefest second it was good news and he wanted to share. But before Harry could even form the words, the other implication crashed over him.

_If I die, he dies. For good._

No one else looked horrified, not yet. It wouldn't be long though, Harry was sure, before he was pulled aside by one and then the others, and made to promise - to swear even – that he wouldn't do anything _foolish. _As if letting himself die to also rid the world of Voldemort once and for all was akin to deciding to go for a fly during a thunderstorm or tattooing a hippogriff across his cheek on a dare. And it was worse than even that. If others already suspected – however wrongly – that Harry and Ginny shared a soul bond, why wouldn't Voldemort come to the same conclusion? Harry harbored no doubts that, no matter how confusing and painful and _crushing_ it might have been to get hit with Ginny's killing curse, the dark wizard's brain was still enough intact to have absorbed the implications of what had happened. It would be the wrong conclusion – there was nothing to be gained by trying to extract Ginny's power from a soul bond that didn't exist – but Voldemort didn't know that. Instead of killing Harry, he was likely going to come after Ginny instead.

"D'you think Voldemort listens to Potterwatch, wherever he is?" By the look on Ron's face, Harry could tell he'd just made the connection. "We could have Lee and George do an entire segment on all the reasons you two don't have a soul bond."

"Probably not." Hermione looked like she might cry.

"There's not much he can do right now though, is there? Without a body, I mean." Ginny's face was pale, but calm. She gave Harry a grim look. "I know what you're thinking and I won't let you do it any more than you'd let me run off to Albania or wherever to look for him myself." She took his hand, and her voice took on a hint of pleading. "Nothing has changed from what it was an hour ago," she said.

Harry started to object and Ginny put her finger on his lips. "Really, it's true. If Voldemort thinks he knows something, better that we know it too."

"He's wrong, though," Harry said. Ginny shrugged.

"Doesn't matter," she said. "If it's what he thinks, we need to assume he'll try to act."

"And even if he knew the truth, that wouldn't stop him from coming after Ginny," said Ron flatly. He pointed at the burn mark Harry had made earlier. "You said it yourself, she's got your protection in her blood; Voldemort would be stupid not to try to get it."

"Fine. _Fine_," said Harry testily. "We'll figure out how to find Voldemort, discover what he's planning, **and** keep him away from Ginny. Shhhh," he added, seeing her mouth open in protest. "I'm not going to leave you behind while the rest of us go on a what's undoubtedly going to be a wild goose chase. But until we have at least some idea where Voldemort is and what he's planning, we're taking certain precautions – extra wards wherever you stay and no traveling alone." He gave Ginny a kiss. "Not much different than we'd do anyway, no matter what," he said.

Ginny nodded. "I don't want you going off on your own either," she said pointedly.

Harry kissed her again. "I knew that wouldn't get past you," he said. "But don't worry. That's a last resort I have no intention ever getting close to." He knew his bravado didn't fool anyone, knew that if Voldemort ever came within a mile of trying to hurt Ginny, Harry wouldn't hesitate to end himself to save her. But no one needed to hear a dramatic proclamation; they'd already seen it put into practice anyway. He hadn't even had to think about it, and at the time, he and Ginny hadn't even been back together, not completely.

A clap of thunder outside startled them all, and Harry realized suddenly how dark it had gotten from the coming storm. It was later than he thought, too, nearly time for supper. He looked up at the still-floating parchment.

"We didn't get through much of your list," he said to Hermione. Any illusion he might have had that they'd need no more than an afternoon to discuss tactics and plans and ideas before running off to find Voldemort was long gone. Even if they'd had some idea where he might be – Harry was betting the familiarity of Albania again – they had no idea how to find him.

But that witch Bertha Jorkins had, and he'd killed her for it. It was not a pleasant thought, but if Voldemort was in a similar state now, at least it meant there was something of the man they could find. It was going to take work, Harry knew, and the others did too, but by the looks on the faces around him, they were as exhausted after only a couple of hours of discussion as he was.

"I think we've done enough for today," Harry said. "It's a good start," he added. "Good work, Hermione." He was rewarded with a somewhat watery smile from her and a nod of appreciation from Ron. He leaned into Ginny. "Are we expected back at the Burrow for dinner?"

Ron answered instead. "Not tonight; we don't need to be back there until late tomorrow. Mum and Dad and George are going to Shell Cottage tonight. It was George's idea." He sat back against the sofa and put his arm casually around Hermione. "I thought we'd just stay here, if that's okay."

Harry wished he had the energy to take mickey out of Ron right then, to joke about separate rooms and scarlet women, but he just couldn't. He nodded. "Sure," he said, hoping the missed opportunity wasn't his last. "You can have the room we used that summer." Mustering a grin, he added, "push the beds together if you want; it's probably more comfortable that way."

Hermione flushed and Ron looked pleased. "All right then," he said. He stood up. "Do you think Kreacher's back? I'm starving."

HPHPHPHPHP

The storm was still raging after supper and after a half-hearted attempt at a game of Exploding Snap in the sitting room. It was only 9 o'clock when Harry and Ginny bid Ron and Hermione goodnight at the door to the room they were to share and continued up another flight to the master bedroom.

Harry couldn't shake a vague feeling of unease, but he chalked it up to the fact that he was going to be sharing a bed with Ginny while Ron and Hermione got up to whatever it was they were up to, only a floor away. Regardless of the number of silencing and locking charms they all knew, just knowing that it was only the four of them here made everything feel magnified. Harry didn't want to think about Ron and Hermione, and he certainly had no intent of sharing with them any of his and Ginny's more intimate moments. He pushed aside those thoughts and added the strongest wards he knew to the bedroom door before turning to Ginny.

"So," he said, looking at her. The odd feeling was still there, and it made Harry feel unaccountably shy. All the way up the stairs he'd only been thinking about what he and Ginny might do once they were alone, but now he found himself hesitating.

She nodded. "Is it because my brother's downstairs or what we talked about earlier?"

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "A little of both, probably." Not for the first time, he wished for a Pensieve and the temporary relief it could provide from all the thoughts in his head. "I wanted to _distract_ you tonight, but . . ."

"But you also want to reassure yourself that I'm not about to sneak off with Hermione and perform some blood ritual on myself," Ginny finished. "Even though you know, you really _know_, that I would never do that. She stared at him carefully. "Just like you would never to that to me, Harry. This involves both of us now." She took his face in her hands. "Neither of us are allowed to die so the other can live."

Ginny's words were a little too close to the prophecy for Harry's liking. He pulled away from her – gently – and sat down heavily on the bed. He shook his head. "But I would have, though." He looked at her, face pleading. "I did."

Ginny made an impatient gesture. "That was instinct," she said. "You said it yourself, it was different than knowingly letting him kill you to save me. I'm talking about that."

"But I would have done that too," said Harry in a hollow voice. "Dumbledore meant for me to. And if I'd seen Snape's memories early enough, I would have." He shook his head. "It would have been a million times harder, but I would have." Harry looked fiercely at Ginny. "And I will again, if I need to, but you can't." Ginny started to open her mouth and Harry held up his hand.

"I know. I know. It's completely unfair and hypocritical and . . . and _wrong_ of me to forbid you to do what I'm allowing myself."

Ginny nodded and Harry could see the unshed tears in her eyes. "It is," she agreed. She didn't try to say anything else. He took her hands.

"But you understand the difference, don't you?" he asked gently. After a moment, Ginny nodded again, and a tear snaked down her cheek. Harry wiped it away.

"This is my entire life, being tangled up with Voldemort. I've got to see it through, no matter what." He squeezed her hands. "I'd rather be tangled up with you . . . I _am _tangled up with you, in the best ways possible. Which is why you have to come out of this alive. I'm not sure if there is going to be any way for me to survive this, but you can. You must."

Ginny's silence told Harry how much she understood. She wiped away the rest of her tears herself, and her voice was quite steady when she finally responded.

"But we're going to do everything in our power, and in Hermione and Ron's power, and my family's and Kingsley's, and . . . anyone else we need, to figure out a way for both of us to survive," she said. "Because it might have started out as just you and him, but I'm not sure I can let it continue that way, no matter what you want."

Harry knew Ginny meant it. He wanted to protest again, to point out all the differences between his situation and likely future and hers, but he couldn't. It didn't matter anyway; she knew. So he put the conversation aside for now and slowly got off the bed.

"Do you want the bathroom first?" he asked. Two sets of pajamas lay neatly folded on a nearby chair and Harry gave a silent thanks to Kreacher. Ginny nodded.

"I won't be long," she said.

Harry got undressed and into his pajamas while he waited, and when finished up in the loo himself, Ginny was already under the covers. He slid in beside her and she snuggled close, resting her head against his chest. He stroked up and down her back under her t-shirt. Despite their talk, or maybe because of it, he still felt uneasy. "I'm exhausted," he admitted after a second.

Ginny blew out an amused breath. "I know, me too," she said. "We don't have to do anything just because we're alone. We're allowed to just be together."

Harry kissed her hair, not wanting to show relief that he would not be expected to make love to Ginny right then. "I'll probably kick myself in the morning for not taking advantage."

"So take advantage in the morning then," said Ginny. She sounded sleepy.

Harry could feel Ginny breathing against him. He focused on the comforting rhythm and willed away his disquiet. He closed his eyes. "In the morning," he agreed.

HPHPHPHPHP

_It was the screaming that woke him; someone was in pain. At first, Harry thought the noise came from him; it felt like shards of glass were rolling around in his head and the pain was blinding. But the voice was achingly familiar and not his own. Harry pushed at his temples and forced his eyes open, turning his face towards the noise. Ginny was bound to a headstone in a graveyard – the same one Voldemort had trapped Harry against the night he'd been resurrected. There was blood everywhere; it was running down both of Ginny's arms and pooling at her feet. She was screaming in pain, but she was also screaming his name. _

"_I had to, Harry, I had to! My blood is strong, please take it. Take it!"_

_Harry tried to run to Ginny but he couldn't make his legs move. He grabbed for his wand but his hands came up empty. And any second, he expected Voldemort to step out of the shadows. For he was the one who had captured Ginny, of course. He was the one who took her blood to use for his return. Harry's eyes raked across the graveyard but he couldn't see anything beyond Ginny screaming. The pain in his head was forcing his eyes closed again and he struggled to keep them open, to keep watch over Ginny's torture. He made his mouth work._

"_Ginny . . ." he gasped._

"I'm here, Harry. I'm here."

The voice was soft; it wasn't hurting, and there was a soft hand on his cheek. Harry wanted to open his eyes to make sure, but the pain in his head was peaking. He groaned. "Go away," he muttered. The hand disappeared.

"Not you," he managed. "Hurts." The hand came back; it felt cooler than before and moved from his cheek to his forehead. The pain receded enough for him to open his eyes. Ginny was watching him with concern. She looked fine, but Harry had to check. He grabbed on of her arms and then the other, reassuring himself that they were whole and unblemished. The image of her bleeding pushed back into his mind and bile rose. He swallowed harshly and closed his eyes again.

You're . . . you're okay," he said, after a minute.

"I am," said Ginny. "It was just a nightmare."

The pain receded another notch and Harry nodded. "You were hurt. Bleeding in the graveyard." He didn't have to explain what he meant.

"Was he there too? Were you watching through . . . him?" Ginny voice was as soft as her hands. Harry shook his head.

"I looked for him, but I didn't see him - just you. And I was watching as myself; I don't think he can . . . put thoughts into my head in the state he's in right now." He shuddered, remembering the feeling of expecting to see Voldemort at any second. "You could see me, and you kept yelling at me to take your blood. I . . . I couldn't tell how you got hurt. It was horrible. I tried to reach you but I couldn't. And my wand was gone."

Ginny's lips replaced her hand. "Just a nightmare," she murmured against his forehead.

Harry leaned into her. "I know," he said. "It felt real though." He paused, considering how much to tell her. "I think we should go to the graveyard," he said finally. He felt Ginny freeze. "Why?" she asked cautiously. "It was just a nightmare."

Harry pushed himself into a sitting position. "I know. I know it was," he said. "It's just a hunch, but I think he might have gone there afterwards. It's where he succeeded in coming back, last time. I think he might have gone there again, if he was able."

"If he was able," Ginny repeated. "He must be able to travel, somehow. Where do you think he is now?"

Harry winced as another spike of pain throbbed in his head. Ginny gave him a sharp look, and Harry held up his hand, asking her to wait while he breathed slowly, in and out through his mouth. This time, the pain disappeared more quickly than before and the images from his nightmare faded a bit along with it. After less than a minute, he was able to focus again.

"It was one of things on Hermione's list to figure out," said Harry. "I think he might have gone back to Albania; it's familiar to him. But he went to the graveyard first, to do something or look for something. I think we need to bring Bill too," he said.

"We'll ask Bill in the morning," said Ginny. She ran her hand across his forehead again and Harry felt the coolness. He twisted to look at her. "Did you put a cooling charm on your hands?"

Ginny nodded. "Something my mum used to do when we were ill. Is it helping?"

"It is," Harry said. "My head feels a lot better. I'll need to learn that one." Indeed, the sharp spikes of pain felt like they had finally disappeared completely, taking with them the unease he'd felt too. He felt lighter and calmer than he had all day. "What time is it?" No light was visible from around the edges of the heavy drapes at the window, but Harry didn't feel tired.

"Around four, I think," said Ginny. She looked down at the bedclothes, which were twisted around their feet. "I don't know how long you'd been having your nightmare before I woke up, but you were moving around a lot."

"Odd, since I couldn't move at all in my dream," remarked Harry. He wondered if the cooling charm Ginny had used on her hands had relaxation powers too; even knowing he'd just had a nightmare, he didn't feel any of his earlier panic. Instead, he found himself focusing on the fact that with the blankets pushed away, he could see that Ginny must have taken off her pajama bottoms at some point. Her bare leg was hitched over his knee, and without really thinking about it, Harry reached down and brushed his hand across her hip.

Ginny moved closer to him. "I got hot," she explained. She put her hand on his waist.

Harry shivered, and not from the cooling charm. "We probably shouldn't . . ." he began. He thought it shouldn't feel right, so quickly after his nightmare. His brain was having a hard time convincing his body of that, though.

"Why not?" asked Ginny. She started tugging down Harry's pajama bottoms and he didn't try to stop her. "Despite everything else, we're still randy kids, aren't we? I think we need to do something about it."

Harry liked Ginny's justifications. When she put her hands on the waistband of his boxers, he helped her pull them off too. "Well technically, I'm of age," he noted. "And you will be too, in a couple of months."

"All the better," said Ginny. She took him in her hand and any other protest Harry may have had died on his lips. He sighed. "That feels really good."

Ginny chuckled. "I should hope so." She gripped him more firmly and Harry pushed against her.

"Shouldn't I . . . you first?" he mumbled. "Get you ready?" Maybe it was the contrast with the stress of the day, but Harry's body was reacting more quickly than usual. At the same time, his brain was already feeling sluggish for any thought other than indulging his arousal. He pushed against Ginny again and fumbled his hands at the space between her legs. "Lemme touch," he said.

Ginny swatted his hand playfully away. "Nope. My turn to go first." Her voice turned a little shy. "I want to try something new." She pushed Harry against the pillows and then dipped her head down to his chest and kissed along his collarbone. "You just lay back and enjoy yourself," she murmured, lips busy. They dropped lower down his front, Ginny using the hand not currently stroking his penis to brace herself against the bed as she moved down his body.

When Ginny's tongue circled Harry's navel, his brain finally woke up to what she was planning. The understanding sent an extra jolt of heat to his groin and he didn't try to hold back his groan of pleasure. Ginny's hair tickled his stomach and legs and it took all of Harry's control to keep his hands running gently through it instead of putting them on the top of her head and pushing her lower. _Let her get there herself._

"You want me to get there?" Ginny asked in an amused voice. Harry realized he'd spoken out loud. He tried to apologize, but Ginny had moved back to his skin and was trailing tiny kisses around and then under the place where his erection lay on his belly.

"Guh huh," he managed, and Ginny chuckled. Her head popped up.

"And don't worry, Potter, I'm fully aware that you're going to be useless afterwards," she said. She dropped her head back down.

Again, words failed, and Harry stopped even attempting to tell Ginny she was wrong, that of course he'd be able to take care of her just as thoroughly as she was currently ministering to him. She pursed her lips and pushed them against the head of his penis. Harry's hips bucked against her and when Ginny opened her mouth to take him inside, he couldn't hold back another thrust.

"Fuck, that's amazing," he said. Ginny moved her mouth long enough to mumble "good," and then kept going. She licked around his tip, down his shaft, to the base, alternating soft kisses and firmer pressure before moving back up to the top and starting again.

Until now, Harry had been leaning back against the pillows where Ginny had pushed him, eyes closed so he could focus on the sensation of her lips on him. But when Ginny's mouth moved to take most of him inside so she could suck, hard, he opened his eyes and almost lost it right there.

He sat forward and pushed her hair behind her ears; the combination of the new angle and clear sight of what Ginny was doing pushed him much closer to orgasm. Harry grit his teeth, trying to hold on even as Ginny moved her mouth up and down, his penis sliding in and out of sight. His hips lifted nearly off the bed and he hoped the silencing charms he'd set earlier still held because the sounds he was making could not be mistaken for anything but what they were.

Ginny got onto her knees between his legs and Harry felt her mouth slide a little farther down his penis.

"I'm gonna come," he grunted. Even as focused as she was, Ginny held up a finger, urging him to hold on a second longer. Her tongue swirled and Harry cursed.

"Ginny," he groaned. The pressure built. Ginny pulled back and then lowered her mouth again. She did it a second time, faster, and Harry reached his limit. Watching Ginny's throat work as she swallowed was the most erotic thing Harry had ever seen and he tried to draw out his climax as long as possible, just so he could keep watching the careful concentration on her face. When she finally sat back on her heels and wiped at the back of her mouth, Harry was utterly spent.

"That was . . . wow," he said. He conjured a cup of water and handed it to Ginny.

"Thanks," she said. "I'm glad it worked. I had no idea what I was doing."

Harry chuckled. "If that was you not knowing what you were doing, I can't wait until you have some experience." He pulled her into his lap. "It was wonderful. And being able to watch was even better."

"I'm glad," said Ginny in a pleased voice. She snuggled closer.

"D'you want me to . . ." Harry began, not quite sure what he was offering. He gave an enormous yawn and Ginny laughed.

"I told you, I knew you'd be useless afterwards, and it's okay," she said. She yawned too. "Maybe in a couple of hours."

Harry reached down and pulled the blankets up over them. "Nice not to need a cleaning spell," he said.

Ginny gave a small snort. "One of the many advantages of oral sex," she agreed.

They both fell back asleep in short order and this time, Harry didn't dream at all. When he woke up later, he could see a grayish light seeping through the edges of window and hear that the rain had started again. Ginny was asleep on her side next to him, one hand low on his belly. He was hard again, he realized. Not that a morning erection was particularly unusual, but given his recent blow job and climax, he might have expected to skip it this morning. Ginny snuggled closer in her sleep. It didn't matter that he couldn't get up; he had no intention of trying to take care of his condition until he'd taken care of Ginny first.

Moving carefully so as not to wake her, Harry scooted out from under Ginny's hand so that he could roll onto his side facing her. Ginny muttered in her sleep and Harry froze, but when her breathing evened out again, he carefully pulled back the blankets just past both of their knees and contemplated her body. The fair thing to do would be to return her favor from last night, and Harry started to shuffle down so that he could peer more closely at the parts currently covered by her knickers. But if Ginny hadn't known what she was doing, Harry was completely ignorant of what he needed to do down there. Truth was, he had no idea where to start.

He brushed a hand across Ginny's hip once, and then again. She rolled onto her back and slept on. Very gently, Harry covered her knickers with his hand and moved closer, kissing her neck and chest above the stretched-out collar of her t-shirt and then pushing it up so he could reach her breasts. He was stroking one gently and kissing the other – and trying to build up the courage to move lower – when Ginny woke up.

She stretched like a cat and made a purring sound that was equally feline. "This is a lovely way to wake up," she said.

Harry looked up at her. "I thought so." He kissed her side. "I want to uhh, return the favor from last night, but I umm, I have no idea where to start." He shuffled back up the bed. "And I want to kiss you good morning, but you'll want me to brush my teeth first."

Ginny laughed. "Me too," she said. She sat up, and her gaze fell on Harry's erection. "We'll need to take care of that too," she said.

"Not until we take care of you first," said Harry decisively. He looked at her knickers again.

"I have an idea," Ginny said. She climbed out of bed and grabbed Harry's hand.

Ginny's idea was brilliant, and it involved the large shower in the bathroom. Harry was completely distracted for what was probably too long, just watching as Ginny stood naked under the spray, head thrown back to let the water run over her face and chest. Harry grabbed the soap and a soft cloth and began to wash her carefully, first her neck and back, all the way down to the curve of her bum, and then moved to wash her front. Her breasts were easy, although Harry almost choked inhaling water when he decided to add his mouth to the cleaning process. As soon as he'd gotten his breath back, he moved his hand between her legs, watching in satisfaction as she sucked in a breath and shivered. He didn't stay there, but instead sat Ginny down on the shower's bench and dropped carefully to his knees in front of her, squinting through the water.

"I'm not sure I'm going to be able to do this," he warned. "But I'm going to try."

"Try all you want," said Ginny. She spread her legs open. "Please."

Harry gave her a nervous grin. He leaned in close and stroked a finger over her folds, spreading them open. The water from the shower pounded lightly on his back and he was rather glad he wasn't attempting this in the silence of the bedroom. He felt awkward, moving his mouth towards Ginny – _should he lick, kiss, suck? – _but as soon as he was there, his tongue darted out and seemed to move on its own accord, exploring her. He started around the outside, licking and then yes, kissing and sucking, and from there, it felt much more natural to slide his hands under Ginny's bum and lift her to him so he could work his mouth in deeper.

He was vaguely aware that Ginny had her hands on his head, but it was only when she moaned that he realized that yes, maybe he was doing something right. She writhed beneath him, and encouraged, Harry moved his tongue to her clit and slid one hand from under Ginny's bum so that he could push his fingers inside of her. He moved his hand in and out and flattened his tongue against her and Ginny actually screamed, jolting Harry out of his rhythm. He looked up at her.

"Is this okay?" he asked, pretty certain he knew the answer.

"Fuck yes, don't stop," Ginny said. She pushed herself towards him.

Harry moved his tongue back into place on Ginny's clit and then, on a whim, took it into his mouth and sucked gently. Ginny's hips bucked and Harry almost lost his balance and fell backwards. He grasped her firmly around the waist and buried his face between her legs, licking down and the focusing on her center until he could barely breath himself.

Ginny screamed when she climaxed, squeezing her legs around Harry's head like a vice. He didn't care; he was almost lightheaded from his efforts and her knees kept him from falling over. Finally, her legs loosened and Harry sat back heavily onto the floor of the shower.

It was only when he could breath normally again that he became aware of his own needs. His erection jutted out towards Ginny's feet, she was still sitting on the bench, leaning against the wall of the shower with her eyes closed. The small smile on her face was private and Harry felt oddly privileged to see it. He stroked himself and waited, and when she opened his eyes, he waited some more.

"You definitely seemed to know what you were doing," she said finally. "I didn't expect that . . ."

"That I'd be able to get you to scream like a banshee?" asked Harry cheekily.

Ginny flushed. "I screamed?"

"Like a banshee, yes," confirmed Harry. He kicked his foot against hers. "It was extremely arousing."

"I can see that," said Ginny with a laugh. She scooted off the bench and knelt between Harry's bent legs. "Do you want to, right here?

In response, Harry grabbed Ginny around the waist and pulled her closer. She straddled his hips and carefully lowered herself onto his erection. He could see her biting her lip as she moved, but when he was completely inside, her face relaxed. "It doesn't hurt this time," she said, and the relief in her voice was evident.

"Good," said Harry. "Because I intend to last longer this time."

He did, too. And while Harry wanted to think it was because his technique had improved, he had to admit that his earlier climax only a couple of hours before was likely the reason. He put his hands under Ginny's thighs and helped her ride him, up and down while he lifted his own hips to meet her. As he got closer, she wrapped her legs around his waist and they rocked together as one, the warm water falling around them like a curtain.

Harry's second orgasm of the day was no less satisfying than his first, and afterwards, he wrapped Ginny up in a towel and carried her back to bed for kissing and touches and cuddles before they both got up – reluctantly – to dress and face the day.

HPHPHPHPH

The parchment list was still floating in the library as Harry and Ginny walked by on the way to the kitchen for breakfast. Harry frowned at it. "She really needs to keep that put away," he said. He waved his wand and said the spell to banish it until needed again.

"No one else is here but Kreacher," Ginny said reasonably. "And we were going to talk more about our plans this morning anyway."

Harry sighed. "You're right, I'm just being paranoid." He waved his wand again and the parchment reappeared. He looked more closely at it. "Hermione's going to have to explain most of these. Non-corporeal power? Sentient Horcruxes?" He shook his head. "The next thing that makes sense to me is number seven – figuring out where Voldemort is now."

"It's probably what we need to do next anyway," said Ginny. "Have you sent Bill a message yet?"

"Why are you sending Bill a message?" Hermione and Ron appeared at the door to the library. By the way Ron was very carefully not looking at anyone, Harry strongly suspected that he and Hermione's relationship had gone a bit further the previous night. He hid his grin and instead pointed at the parchment.

"I think he maybe able to help us figure out where Voldemort went immediately . . . after. I think he may have gone back to the graveyard. Where he came back the first time." Harry didn't really want to get into the details of his nightmare, but he knew he had to give everyone some basis for his hunch. "I had a kind of . . . vision about it."

Hermione looked sharply at him. "What kind of vision? I thought you were only able to share thoughts with Voldemort when he had a corporeal body." She glanced at the parchment and one of the listed items suddenly made more sense to Harry.

"You think he can share my thoughts even without a body, he can plant ideas in my head?" Harry did not like that thought at all. But then a worse one intruded. "Or do you think he's already found a way to come back?"

Hermione was shaking her head. "I don't think he's figured out a way to create a physical body again, no," she said. "That ritual requires preparation and time and a lot of Dark Magic, not to mention the things he'll need to collect from other people – a bone from his father's grave, blood of an enemy, flesh of a servant. That won't happen quickly."

"But what about the other, do you think Voldemort can get inside Harry's head in his current state?" Ginny glanced at Harry as she spoke and he gave the tiniest shake of his head. _Don't mention the nightmare. _Ginny nodded back.

Hermione was looking through one of the books she had reactualized the day before. "It will likely be a lot more difficult for Voldemort to send visions to you – or for you to see what he's thinking – as he currently is, but I can't say it's impossible. The two of you built a fairly strong and direct connection these past few years, which might make it easier to rebuild." She shook her head. "I'm just not sure yet. It's possible he can't get in at all."

Harry hated the not knowing. "Then I think we need to start figuring out some answers," he said. "Starting with the graveyard." At Ron's skeptical look, Harry added, "it won't be like Hogwarts, I promise. There is something to be found there." The promise was a lie; Harry wasn't at all certain about what they might find, but it felt more definite than their plan to go to Hogwarts had been. He nodded at them. "I promise," he said again. "As soon as Bill and the others are ready, we'll go."


	7. Seven

A/N: I intended to end this chapter in a different place, further along in the plot, but the next bit is pretty explosive and needs to be a standalone chapter, I think. Thanks for reading and reviewing. For those of you also reading Reversing Course, start keeping and eye out for little hints of crossover. The Harry and Ginny are in different universes, but I'm having fun slipping in bits and pieces of each story into the other.

Harry insisted that Ginny Apparate with him to the Little Hangleton graveyard under his Invisibility Cloak. She didn't put up too much of a fuss; she didn't want to admit she was nervous, although she was. A combination of the uncertainty and Harry's nightmare had her looking over her shoulder far too often, expecting to see the snakelike face peering down at her or worse, raising his wand.

It was a relief to see that Bill and several other curse-breakers were already there, spread out in a line, looking terse. Harry had no sooner pulled the cloak off of them when Bill called out, "don't move, not yet."

Ginny froze, still with Harry's arm around her. "What is it?" he called warily. "What did you find?"

Bill shook his head. "Not sure yet. But he was here." He waved his wand in a complicated pattern. "Okay, you can move. Come stand behind me, please."

Harry didn't take his arm off Ginny as he guided her to stand behind her brother. His mouth was set and his eyes scanned back and forth across the graves. Ginny realized something.

"This is the first time you've been here since that night, isn't it?" She kept her voice low.

Harry nodded tightly. "Cedric, he was killed right over there," he said, pointing. He stopped suddenly, pulling Ginny back from her next step. "And that's . . . that's where . . ."

"I know," said Ginny softly. "I can see." Tom Riddle Senior's grave seemed to tower above the others, and even being hit by the present sunlight from every angle, it gave off a sinister aura. A glowing green ring surrounded the entire grave, and they skirted it carefully as they walked to where Bill stood.

"Something happened there," he said, nodding at the green circle. "We're trying to figure out what."

Harry didn't look surprised. "Voldemort needed another bone," he said grimly. "Can you tell if he got one?"

Bill looked at Harry. "A bone? Why would he need . . . Oh, right." He nodded. "That helps." He waved his wand and took down the ward. "I don't think he cursed anything; we aren't getting that kind of signature. But he was definitely here."

Something was niggling at the back of Ginny's brain, but she couldn't quite grasp it. It was something important, she knew that. She deliberately stopped thinking about it, and forced herself to focus on something else instead. That she decided to pick Harry's hand, and the way it felt clasped in hers made it easier to empty her brain of anything else. She rubbed her thumb across the back of his knuckles and leaned into him when he shivered. He held his wand tightly out in front of them and she could feel from the way his body tensed that he was seeing things she could only begin to imagine. Beyond Riddle Sr.'s grave was an open space, and by the way Harry's breathing quickened when he looked there, Ginny knew that it was the spot where he'd battled Voldemort the first time, where he'd seen the ghosts of his parents after the two wands had connected . . .

"His wand!" Ginny suddenly knew what she had been eluding her. "Where is it?"

Harry and Bill both swore. Bill spoke into the air and his jaguar Patronus bounded off in three different directions. Harry gripped his own wand more tightly and held it out like a beacon, as if it could call Voldemort's erstwhile wand to him. "There could be two," he said to Bill. "His own yew and phoenix feather, or the Elder Wand, which he stole from Dumbledore's tomb."

"Then it really exists?" asked Bill sharply. He sent his Patronus out again. Soon, a variety of silvery animals – an eagle, a wolverine and what Ginny thought was an ibex – all reported back from different parts of the graveyard.

"The Elder Wand hasn't been used here," Bill said. "But the other curse breakers are picking up a lot of phoenix feather activity. He looked expectantly at Harry, who nodded.

"Can they tell the difference between activity that happened recently and what might have happened three years ago? And are they getting signatures from one wand or two?"

"Working on that," said Bill. "And trying to assess whether the remains in the grave have been disturbed recently."

"But how . . . how could he hold a wand, right now?" Ginny had started shaking and couldn't stop. "He doesn't have a body . . . does he?"

Bill looked grim. "I doubt Voldemort's been able to regain corporeal form yet, but the fact that he must have some means of performing magic with a wand is . . . troubling."

Harry put his arm more firmly around Ginny. "It's okay," he whispered to her. "This is something familiar, actually." He looked at Bill. "The easiest would be for him to possess someone – a person, or more likely, an animal. Something that could carry a wand."

"An animal? That could be anywhere!" Ginny looked up into the trees. Bill shook his head. "It's not quite that easy, but easier than regaining a corporeal form." The silver eagle Patronus flew to Bill's shoulder. He listened for a second, and then nodded.

"They've found a couple of possible pathways to follow, places the magical signature seems to move off away from here. They're trying to age them so they know the most likely one to follow."

Ginny saw Harry glance around; he was mentally tracing his own steps in the graveyard, she bet. Sure enough he pointed to the open clearing. "Tell them not to follow anything there," he said. "That was . . . me. And Cedric," he said quietly. "I doubt Voldemort would have followed that way."

Bill nodded. "Why don't you lot go home and get some rest? The work to trace the curses is slow and precise; there isn't a lot for you to do or see. I'll let you know when we have some answers."

Harry nodded, and Ginny thought he looked a little relieved that he wasn't expected to stay any longer in this graveyard. He waved at Ron and Hermione, who had been talking to one of the

other curse breakers. They held hands as the walked over and Ginny saw Bill smile at them. "Are we going back to Grimmauld Place?" asked Ron. Ginny grinned at the hopeful tone in his brother's voice.

"I want to go to the Burrow," said Harry bluntly. "Your parents and George should be home by now. I think we should be with them."

To his credit, Ron didn't object, just grabbed Hermione around the waste and Apparated away.

Ginny wanted to follow them immediately, but Harry needed to finish talking to Bill, of course. After Bill promised to let them know as soon as they had answers about whether Voldemort had been taken another of his father's bones or where he may have traveled (while possessing an animal or not), he'd send a Patronus. Until then they should lay low.

To Ginny's surprise, Harry shook his head. "I'm meeting with Kingsley tomorrow at the Ministry," he said. "To talk about my first mission as an Auror; mine and Ron's."

This was news to Ginny. "When did you . . .?" she asked quietly.

Harry kissed her hair. "When you were asleep this morning, early," he said. "Before we . . ." he looked swiftly at Bill. "I spoke to Kingsley early," he finished.

Bill looked away, whistling casually, and Ginny had to smile. She looped her arm around her oldest brother. "It's okay, Bill," she said. "I promise." Bill smiled down at her. "I know," he said. "And that's why it worries me." He kissed her on the forehead. "Tell mum and dad thanks for coming over last night, and that we'll see them soon, okay?"

HPHPHPHP

They didn't hear from Bill for almost a week, but when he finally arrived at the Burrow, it was to tell them he and the other curse breakers had had success, and that decisions needed to be made.

Irrational as it was, Ginny couldn't help but feel resentful towards her oldest brother when he called her and Harry, Ron and Hermione to the sitting room to talk about what he and the other curse breakers had found. The days since they had left the graveyard had fallen into a pattern that was almost comforting in its mundaneness. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement among the four of them not to decide or do anything of import while they waited for news from Bill, and instead, their days were filled with chores, walks, and games of two-aside Quidditch . Harry and Hermione switched rooms every night, a subterfuge Ginny was certain her parents had twigged and was equally certain they did not mind. She and Harry had not made love again though; he refused to do so in her childhood bed and she had to concede it would have felt odd to her as well.

He and Ron had gone to see Kingsley early one morning and returned before too long looking serious but not grim. "We didn't tell him much, not yet," explained Ron. "But he's on-board with what we need to do."

"As soon as we figure out exactly what that is," added Harry dryly.

Only one event reminded Ginny that they weren't just all spending a casual holiday together.

Two days after the graveyard, while the four of them were lying on the banks of the pond, recovering from a swim, Hermione tentatively suggested that they all look at her list again, that maybe it would make sense to have a plan in place ahead of hearing from Bill. She looked at Harry when she spoke; they all knew it was his choice alone. He didn't take long to answer.

"Yeah, good idea, Hermione. We really should look at the list again. So we're prepared." The words were right, but Ginny could hear the reluctance behind them. She could also hear that Harry knew it was the right decision to make.

The next items on the list were more frightening, now that Ginny had a better idea what they meant. _Non Corporeal Power. Sentient Horcruxes_

"You want to figure out how Voldemort is able to perform magic without a body," she said, nodding at the first item. "But what is a sentient Horcrux?

"Harry is," said Ron. It was clear he and Hermione had discussed the already. "And Nagini was too. It means they can think for themselves, outside of whatever the Horcrux does to protect itself."

"That's probably why Harry didn't turn into a crazed killing machine every time he's been in danger," said Hermione.

Harry startled. "What?"

Hermione looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything before; it's something I've been trying to research. You know how, with the other Horcruxes, when they were in danger of being destroyed, they did . . . something, to try to prevent it?"

"Like Riddle coming out of the diary, or the locket . . ." Harry's voice trailed away and Ginny saw him look swiftly at Ron, and then away. Harry had only told her what had happened with the locket in the most broad strokes. She knew it had affected Ron differently, but she hadn't pushed for the details when it was obvious Harry intended to protect Ron's privacy, and, Ginny suspected, his own. But now Ron nodded.

"Yep. Like when the locket went all mental and made me think things were true when they clearly weren't." Ron spoke in an oddly proud voice and leaned over to give Hermione a kiss that bordered on making Ginny want to hide her eyes. Next to her, she heard Harry give a soft chuckle.

"I told him," he said quietly. "Glad he finally believes it's true." He cleared his throat and Ron and Hermione broke apart.

"Yes, right," she said, flustered. "Just like that. I suspect that the fact that Harry can think for himself and is in control of his actions is the reason he doesn't display the same type of automatic self-preservation every time he's in danger. Which is a good thing for Harry, and those around him."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, can you just imagine, during a Quidditch match, if someone hit a Bludger at Harry and he turned into a giant . . . nevermind." He flushed.

"Okay, we've established I'm not going to go mental if one you surprise me from behind, but what does that have to do with Voldemort?" Harry sounded impatient.

Fortunately, Herione picked up on it too. "It's important because it raises the question of what else or whom else Voldemort might try to possess, and whether possessing someone would give him the ability to create another Horcrux," she said.

"Whether he has the non-corporeal power, you mean." Ginny was starting to get a clearer picture of how complicated everything was.

Harry saw it too; he sagged into Ginny. "There's so much we don't know," he said. "I don't even know where to start."

Ginny shot Hermione a look, and she quickly waved her wand and banished the parchment. "I don't think there's anything else we can do until we hear from Bill anyway," she said. "But it's good we had this discussion. It's giving me some new research ideas to follow."

Ginny had to hand it to Hermione. She wasn't sure if the other witch was serious or not, but she sounded genuinely excited about delving even deeper into the issues of Horcruxes and what kind of power Voldemort might be able to weald right now, and any number of other topics that Ginny found depressing and overwhelming. She tugged on Harry's arm. "Want to take a walk, just the two of us?" she asked.

Harry nodded quickly. "Yes, please," he said. He jumped up.

They walked in silence until they were past the edge of the Weasley's property, and then continued down the road that eventually wended its way to the village. It was so quiet that Ginny could hear the individual crickets and birds chirping back and forth to each other from the field that bordered one side of the road. The weather had finally seemed to decide that it was approaching summer, and a humid haze shimmered in the air, making the light traveling cloak she wore feel unnecessary. She and Harry held hands, and he aimlessly kicked a rock in front of them as they walked.

"Sometimes I'm completely certain that we're going to figure this out, that Hermione's going to find a spell, or Bill's got a friend who is an expert in expelling Horcruxes or something." Harry blew out a breath. "Or that we'll figure out a way to destroy him without bothering with the soul bit inside me. I could live with that, I think. I mean, I did for years and years without knowing it." He looked sideways at Ginny. She nodded.

"I think about it too, that it will come to me in a dream or something. How to fix all this." She grimaced. "Once, I actually did dream we'd fixed it, and the Horcrux was gone and he was gone and Fred . . . Fred was here, that the wall hadn't really fallen on him. I woke up so happy and feeling so relieved. And then I remembered. I could barely breathe for a moment, from the pain of it."

Harry gave her a stricken look and squeezed his hand in hers. Ginny squeezed back. Until now, she realized she had been editing what she was thinking when she talked to Harry, for fear of magnifying the pressure on him. She didn't like letting him know exactly how scared and helpless she felt, but the truth was, she didn't feel like she could continue keeping things from him and not go a little bit crazy. She told him as much, feeling a tiny knot that had been twisting in her stomach all these weeks loosen a bit.

He nodded. "I know why you've been holding back, but I'm glad you told me. Not knowing isn't going to make anything any better." He gave a small smile. "If it did, maybe I'd tell you to keep things to yourself."

Ginny smiled back and knocked her hip against his. "Not a chance, Potter," she said. "If I'm going to be mopey and uptight, then I'm bringing you right along with me."

It worked; Harry barked a laugh. "It's a deal," he said.

They were stopped on the road. Fields still stretched out on the left, but whatever was on their right was hidden by tall hedgerows that grew up wild. Ahead, the hill that led to the Lovegoods was just visible in the distance. Harry bit his lip and looked swiftly around. "D'you want to . . .?" he began. He didn't wait for an answer, but looked around and nodded to himself. "Yes, come on." He tugged her off to the right, and with the wave of his wand, carved a small hole in the hedges through which they could just barely pass. The opening sealed up behind them, and they found themselves in a small copse of trees at the edge of a pasture overgrown with wildflowers.

"Perfect," said Harry with satisfaction. "I don't think anyone's touched this area for years."

"They haven't," said Ginny. "It's wizard owned. When the old couple who lived nearby both died, their family let the land grow wild."

"Even better," said Harry. He was walking in a small circle, setting up wards. When he finished, he turned to her and held out his hand. "Come here. We may not feel comfortable making love in your bedroom, but how do you feel about meadows?"

"As long as your wards keep out the mosquitos," laughed Ginny. She pulled off her cloak and spread it out on the ground. Harry performed a charm to make it bigger and fluffier, and pulled his shirt over his head. He was already hard, she could see.

"I want to try to make you come," he said. He peeled off his trousers and pants. "During."

Ginny shivered. "I'd like that," she said. She shimmed off her jeans and knickers and wrapped her arms around Harry, enjoying the feeling of all of his skin pressed against hers. A breeze raised gooseflesh and he pulled her down to the ground and covered his body with hers.

"Are you warm enough?" he whispered. "I can conjure us a blanket."

"I feel good like this," she answered. "I like feeling the air on my skin."

Harry nodded in agreement and raised up on his forearms to skim himself along her belly, before lowering back down to kiss her deeply. Ginny looked up and could see tree branches tangled above them and blue sky past that, as if they were the only real things in the world. Those, and the feel of Harry's weight on her. He ran his hands down to her waist and pressed his fingers against her hips, holding her in place for a minute while he fit himself between her legs and thrust without entering. "Ahhh," he groaned. "I missed this."

"Me too," said Ginny breathlessly. She lifted her hips, expecting Harry to slide inside, but instead he moved his hand and began to tease her with his fingers.

"I want you to finish when I'm inside you, but I want to make sure you're ready first," he explained. He slipped a finger inside, and then a second. "So warn me if you get close."

"Okay," she said. "Just don't go to my . . .you know. Not yet."

"It makes you crazy when I do." Harry nodded matter-a-factly.

In response, Ginny reached her own hand between them and stroked her fingers along his length. He shuddered and stilled, lifting himself a little bit higher to give her hand more room. "Want to make sure you're ready too?" she asked cheekily.

"I'm always ready," he said with a laugh.

Ginny was happy to see Harry like this, able to put aside the heaviness for a while and just concentrate on something as frivolous as sex outdoors. Although, if Ginny had to admit, nothing about what they were doing felt frivolous. The look in Harry's eyes as he focused on bringing her right to the brink was intense, and Ginny felt perfectly self-indulgent as she dropped her hand off him and gave into the sensations fully. She was minutely focused on what she was feeling between her legs, but at the same time, when a movement above her caught her eye she was able to follow the puffy wisp of cottonwood as it floated gently down to land on Harry's back. She brushed it away and he shivered and then looked at her, eyes searching.

"I'm ready for you to be inside me," she said.

Harry didn't speak, just nodded and pushed himself up on his arms before guiding himself into her. Ginny grasped his backside and held him against her, trying to focus on every sensation at once. He froze, watching her with wide eyes as she pushed against him with tiny pulses, the tiny contractions around him overtaking her entire body.

"Oh god, Ginny, that's . . . right like that, please. Don't stop." Harry was gasping out his words as his body trembled against hers.

"Don't move yet," she warned him. "Stay all the way in."

He swallowed hard. "Okay. But . . . okay."

Ginny tilted her hips and felt the pressure begin to grow. Harry was frozen above her, arms trembling. Even so, he moved one to the space between them and found her clit, circling it with his finger.

Ginny groaned and pushed more insistently against him, concentrating on the feeling and pressure. Harry pressed his finger down and suddenly, Ginny wanted Harry to move. She eased her tight grip on his bum and slipped her hands under his hips to lift them up. He made a sound that was half pleasure, half relief, and braced himself above her again, rocking against her at first, and then thrusting in and out with greater and greater intensity.

Ginny rose to meet each thrust, quivering with the sensations when Harry was fully inside, her, but the intensity eased every time he pulled back, and she couldn't get all the way to the edge. Harry was biting his lip in concentration, shifting his body around hers while he moved in and out, and Ginny could tell the effort it was taking him not to explode. She pushed into him again.

"Roll over," she commanded. She wrapped her legs around Harry's back.

He gave her a confused, unfocused look. "Huh? You didn't yet . . . did you? Cause . . . I'm trying," he huffed. "Maybe if I . . ."

"Roll over," Ginny said again. "I want to be on top."

This time, Harry understood. He wrapped his arms around Ginny's back and rolled, pulling her along with him. Ginny grabbed his hands and pushed herself up, riding him.

The sound Harry made startled a bird that had been nesting nearby, but neither of them noticed. Ginny rocked back and forth, moving herself up and down Harry and rhythm that got increasingly erratic. Harry put his hands on her bum to move her in and out, and she felt her climax rushing towards her. She dipped her head to kiss him, tongue unintentionally mimicking the thrusts of their bodies. Harry pushed her against him again, and the slight shift of their bodies together was enough to push Ginny over the edge. She didn't even have time to tell Harry she was close or to urge him to let go too.

It didn't matter. Harry matched her a few seconds later, groaning her name as he finished.

Ginny collapsed, sweaty and satisfied, on top of Harry and felt their hearts beating wildly against each other. Slowly, she became aware of the sounds of the crickets and feel of the breeze again. Harry reached up and plucked a bit of cottonwood fluff out of her hair. He trailed his hands lazily up and down her back and Ginny dropped her head to his chest and felt like she could have probably fallen asleep right there, naked in the meadow.

"We have to get back, though." Harry guessed her thoughts.

"I know," she said. "And we will. It's just, every time we manage to find moments like this to ourselves, it makes more and more greedy for them, you know?"

Harry kissed her head. "I know. I love being able to lose myself in you like this." He sighed. "And I worry, every time, that there might not be another." He shifted under her and Ginny felt the shift in mood at the same time. She slowly pulled herself up and rolled to Harry's side. He cleaned them both with a spell and slowly, without talking, they found their clothes and got dressed. Harry took down the wards and opened a hole in the hedges again, and they walked quietly back to the Burrow, hand in hand.

That had been three days ago, and their tryst seemed to buoy Harry's mood through days of chores, walks, and flying. They did not get another chance to sneak away.

And now, the four of them sat with Bill and Miriam Wrightwood, another senior curse breaker, to hear what they had found.

Ginny studied her oldest brother carefully for signs that what he was about to say was going to destroy all their hope. In the first months after Bill had been bitten, Ginny had had trouble reading his expression, but soon had learned to interpret the new shape of his mouth when it was tightened in anger or stress, or eased in relaxation. When she realized that his eyes hadn't changed, that made it easier. Now he looked serious but not grim, and Ginny allowed herself to relax a fraction.

"We were able to trace his path out of the graveyard, and we think we know – generally – where he is," Bill said without preamble. Beside her, Harry gave a quiet sigh of relief. Bill held up his hand. "It won't be easy; he's gone back to Europe. The Netherlands, from what we believe."

"The Netherlands?" asked Hermione? "That seems so . . . tame." Ginny nodded, images of tulips and windmills not fitting with her knowledge of Voldemort.

Bill nodded. "One reason we've been able to track him is that he's expending a lot of energy to move. We think that's as far as he was able to get before he's had to rest and replenish." His mouth tightened and Ginny felt a tiny thrum of anxiety.

"But?" she asked tersely.

Bill looked at her and nodded. "But, we're pretty sure he's possessing someone, or some animal, right now. The magical signature is there. We just don't know what it is."

It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Ron swore. "Already?" asked Hermione faintly.

Next to Ginny, Harry tensed, but didn't say anything. "You already knew," she said quietly.

"He doesn't have to figure out how to do it this time," he already knows, Harry murmured back. "I assumed he'd move as quickly as possible." He looked at Bill. "If you had a guess?" he asked.

Miriam spoke instead. "We suspect a bird of some sort, likely an owl or some other bird of prey that's accustomed to flying long distances."

"And that could hold a wand in its talons," Harry said. He nodded. "Makes sense." He was remarkably calm, and Ginny wondered briefly if it was an act. But then Harry looked at Ron. "This will work with what we told Kingsley," he said. It wasn't an act; he was slipping into action, Ginny realized. Harry's face was scrunched in thought. "He'll need to come up with a reason to send us to Europe, " he said slowly, "but it's a likely place for any escaped Death Eaters, don't you think?"

Ron nodded in agreement. "Maybe Potterwatch can have a story about it; about chasing escaped Death Eaters to Europe. France, or Spain, so Voldemort doesn't cotton that we're onto him."

HPHPHPHPHP

Harry took a deep breath. It was a strange sort of relief to have Bill's information. Kingsley had told him and Ron that he'd use whatever power it took to make it appear that they were doing ordinary work for the Aurors while they searched for Voldemort. Having a location, even one as large as an entire country, was

"Makes sense," said Harry. He took another breath. "So . . . we're going to the Netherlands." He looked around the room until he'd caught each person's eye. "All of us . . .?"

"I'm going," said Ginny quickly. Despite everything, Harry bit back a grin. He lifted their entwined hands and kissed her thumb. "I know better than to suggest otherwise," he said.

Around him, Hermione and Ron were nodding – no surprise there – and Bill and Miriam were having a quiet conversation. It concluded, and Bill looked up.

"I'll go with you, if you want," he said. "But I can also teach you the spells needed for tracking Voldemort's movements. It might be better to have fewer people there."

Harry nodded in agreement. As reassuring as it would be to have Bill's experience and power with them, it would also attract more attention. Right now, the only thing they had going for them was something of an element of surprise. Not for the first time, Harry wondered what Voldemort was thinking right now. Did he assume that Harry would come chasing after him? Sometimes, Harry thought not, that the wizard's one weakness, his failure to understand human nature, would lead him to assume Harry would be deep in hiding right now. It was a thought he had been clinging to during his darker moments, that maybe Voldemort was biding his time, in no rush to make his next room, and that Harry, therefore, had more time too.

Bill's news mostly destroyed that fantasy, and Harry forced himself to adjust his mindset. They were just going to have to work faster, that was all. It was better, really. The luxury of too much time could lead to procrastination or complacence. Better that they knew what they were up against, he told himself. Another thought occurred to him.

"What about the bone?" he asked.

Bill's mouth tightened. "We aren't sure, unfortunately."

Ron leaned forward. "What do you mean, you aren't sure? Aren't there only a specific number of bones in the human body?" He looked at Hermione.

She nodded. "206," she said immediately.

Ron nodded. "Okay, so count them. We know he already used one, can't you tell if he took another?

"It's not that easy," replied Bill. "The gravesite was in bad shape; all the graves in the area were. It looked as if maybe he was trying to mask his actions, that maybe he tried to get something out of the ground, but we can't tell if he succeeded. And there's a possibility that he was able to transfigure something else to look like a bone, or a number of bones. We couldn't tell what remains belonged to Riddle Senior."

"So maybe that's a good thing." Ginny spoke up. "If he wasn't able to get a bone from his father, he won't be able to come back." She looked at Harry, and he could see how much she wanted this to be the answer.

Harry wasn't nearly as confident; the fact that Voldemort had been desecrating numerous graves made him feel slightly ill. "We can hope," he said gently, "but not assume. We need to move forward as if he's got the first piece of what he needs for resurrection."

Ginny's face fell slightly "You're right," she said quietly.

Harry knew it was time for him to make some decisions and take control. This had always been his fight, and he knew that none of the others would say anything before he did, no matter what they might be thinking to themselves. It occurred to him that it was something they needed to talk about, to prevent the problems that had arisen during the Horcrux hunt. Ron had left, in part at least, because none of them had really talked out their concerns, before they came to a head and exploded. Harry was determined to avoid a similar situation this time. Especially with the addition of Ginny, it was imperative they all work as a team, and address any potential problems immediately.

But there would be time to talk that out later. For now, they needed a plan.

"I think we can be ready to leave for the Netherlands in two or three days," he said, hoping he sounded more decisive than he felt. "Since we are really only going to get information now, to try to figure out what he's possessed, I don't think we need to do a lot of other preparation. That should be enough time to learn how to trace possible curses, right?" He looked at Bill. The man waved his hand back and forth.

"More or less, but I'd plan for four days," he said.

Harry nodded. "Four then," he said. "And, Hermione, if there is anything you can find, about the terrain, or . . . anything else, will you let me know?" He knew he wasn't giving her much to go on, but he also knew that left to mostly her own devices, Hermione would spend many content hours pouring through books and following leads until her brain was full of details that might prove important at the most unanticipated times. She nodded, and glanced at Ron. That gave Harry an idea.

"Ron, maybe you can help Hermione. Not with the research," he added quickly, grinning at the horrified look on his friend's face. "But with a plan, or plans, for what it might look like to confront Voldemort, if he's possessing an animal like an owl."

Ron nodded. "Good idea," he said. His face closed in thought. "Brooms," he muttered to himself. "And a way to see long range." He grabbed Hermione's hand. "Let's go to my room," he said. "We have a lot to think about."

"As long as they think about the mission," Ginny said in a low voice. Harry was glad to hear how normal she sounded. He squeezed her hand. "Whatever helps," he said. He stood up and looked at Bill. "Can you start teaching me now? Me and Ginny, I mean." Ginny stood up too.

"I want to learn," she said.

Bill looked like he wanted to give his thoughts about teaching his baby sister to track Voldemort, but he refrained. "Miriam and I will go set up wards in the orchard," he said. "Meet us there in ten?"

When they were alone, Harry wrapped his arms around Ginny. "It seems very real now," he said. "That we're about to purposely go and chase after Voldemort. I mean, I know we aren't planning to attack him or anything, but still." He tightened his arms. "It feels odd."

Ginny nodded against his chest. "I can't even imagine what it's going to be like," she said, voice muffled "Every time I try to, I just can't. In the past, there's never been any warning before he's been there."

"And I suspect he'll find a way to surprise us again," said Harry grimly. "But maybe not as badly as in the past." He looked at the clock. "It's time to go to the orchard," he said gently. "Are you ready?"

Ginny nodded, more resolutely this time. "Absolutely," she said.


	8. Eight

For those of you also reading Reversing Course, I'm well into the next chapter and hope to get it posted before Friday and the holidays. It just took me a little longer to get started than this did. I'll admit, this was out of my comfort zone and I had a lot of fun writing it.

Amsterdam reminded Harry a little bit of London, if London had been crossed by wide canals bordered by charming row houses, and was nestled under an intensely blue sky. The city's energy was different from London's too; even the Muggles they saw walking in business attire appeared more laid-back and cheerful than Harry had ever seen at home, and he felt his spirits lifting. He and Ginny and Ron and Hermione walked through the city, peering with interest at a storefront advertising that it was a "sex museum," sniffing the air at what Hermione assured them was the equivalent of relaxation charm for Muggles, and finally stopping at an outdoor café for coffee and sweets while they talked over their plan.

So far, everything had gone just as Bill promised. They had Apparated to a quiet corner of a wizarding street in the center of town and Harry had performed the beginning of the spell that would, if it worked, help them find the continuation of the magical trail the curse breakers had detected in the graveyard. Bill had been confident they would find it.

"It will take up to an hour to activate," he'd warned them. "Remember not to say his name once you arrive; he may have cursed it again. Best to walk around in the Muggle part of the city while you wait so you don't attract attention from any wizards who might wonder why you're using such an advanced tracking spell."

And so they had done just that, while the soft orange glow surrounding the tip of Harry's wand like a cloud grew more pronounced. When the wand began to emit tiny sparks, and those sparks had formed a faint trail in front of them, Hermione had disillusioned them all and they'd taken an ordinary Muggle bus out of the city and into the countryside, where they'd gotten off to walk alongside yet another canal that stretched off into the distance, rows of pink and red tulips swaying gently in the breeze on either side.

The scene was idyllic and beautiful and looked like every photo Harry had ever seen of the Netherlands. It seemed remarkably unlike any place Voldemort would choose to stay, with its flat and wide-open land that offered seemingly no place to hide. They all walked in silence for several minutes before Ginny spoke, the hesitation obvious in her voice.

"It's so pretty here. Almost too pretty, don't you all think?"

Harry thought it odd too; the landscape was too open and pleasant; it seemed the furthest thing from dark magic he could imagine. But the orange sparks were growing thicker and had condensed into something that looked like a rough arrow, heading down the road. Feeling less trepidation than he might if they were walking through a dark forest, but wary nonetheless, he followed them. The others fell in; Ginny next to him and Ron and Hermione behind.

"Keep your wands out," he called, although he knew the warning was unnecessary.

"What, in case we get attacked by a bouquet of tulips?" Ron joked.

"They are kind of eerie," remarked Hermione. "Beautiful, but a little odd in their uniformity." Indeed, any way the four of them looked, the landscape didn't seem to change. There were row after row of flowers, greenish canals bordered by neat bicycle paths and dirt roads, and blue sky, interrupted only by the occasional picturesque windmill, spinning merrily over the scene. It was very quiet, and Harry suddenly had the impression that they had somehow walked much further away from the city than he'd thought. He frowned to himself.

Ginny suddenly pointed across a field. "Does that look like an owl, flying around that windmill?"

"Or two," muttered Harry. For the figures circling the distant building had the unmistakable silhouette and wingspan of the ordinary barn owls that frequented post offices and the owlery at Hogwarts.

"Should we head that way, then?" asked Hermione. "I haven't seen any other owls around, have you? I've been reading; they aren't native to this area at all."

"And it's daytime," added Ginny. "If they were just hunting, they'd wait until night." She stepped off the path they had been following. "How do we get over there? Do you think it's safe to Apparate across the canal and take that next pathway?"

Harry looked the direction Ginny pointed. There were no people around as far as he could see, and the next pathway, which seemed to run right up to the windmill with the owls, looked much the same as the one they were on. _Would it look different if it were cursed?_ Harry stifled down the wish that Bill had come with them after all. Nothing around here felt dangerous, and for that very reason, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that it was. He pushed the thought away. It was unlikely that Voldemort had enough power to curse an entire field of flowers, or that he would even want to. It was possible he didn't even realize or expect that Harry and the others would have gotten this far this quickly. And they had come here for answers. Now that one possibly presented itself, they couldn't just back away. He nodded.

"I think we should go there," he said. He turned in the direction of the windmill and concentrated on the destination. Hermione's voice interrupted him.

"But Harry, look at the orange sparks. They aren't heading that way."

She was right; the magical trail they had been following had continued on the same path parallel to the canal they'd have to cross to the get to the windmill. It hadn't stopped moving when they had, and now was some meters away. Harry swore. "We can't give that up either." He looked back and forth between the fading orange and the owls, trying to think. Ron made the decision for him.

"Hermione and I will go check out the windmill and then meet you, wherever you end up. ""Send up sparks so we know where you are."

"Green ones," said Harry. They were the easiest to see in the sky. Without any other option, he nodded. "But if it seems at all dangerous, get out of there immediately. Don't try to fight him."

Ron looked grim, but nodded back. "Same goes for you two," he said pointedly. He slapped Harry on the back and gave Ginny a little more than his normal side hug. Hermione hugged them both too, and Ginny gave a nervous chuckle.

"Way to act like we're marching into battle," she said.

Harry put his arm on her and prepared to Apparate them both to the orange sparks, now fading in the distance. There wasn't much time before they were lost. "I hope not," he said grimly, before turning on the spot.

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Up close, the windmill was as clean and neat as it had appeared from afar, the brown bricks of the main building giving way to the gray-shingled room that stretched up to the sky. Ron and Hermione stopped at the door and looked up at the wide blades rotating lazily above, crossing over their heads just high enough not to hit anyone who might be entering or leaving. From that angle, they could not see the two owls, but odd hooting sounds assured them they were still there. They both stood silently for a moment, listening.

"Does it sound like one's hurt?" Hermione's voice was low, and only the slightest tremor at the end gave away her nerves.

Ron listened intently. "They don't sound the same as each other, but I'm not sure why." He listened again. "And neither of them sound exactly like regular owls." He put his ear against the door. "I don't hear anything inside."

Hermione held out her wand. "Homonem Revilio," she whispered. Nothing happened.

"That's good, right?" asked Ron. Hermione's lips tightened.

"I'm not sure," she said, "that he's alive enough to register . . ." She gave Ron a scared look. He put his arm around her.

"We'll go in together," he said firmly. "Wands out."

Carefully, they pushed open the door.

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The orange sparks seemed to move more quickly the thicker they got, and soon Harry and Ginny were nearly running to keep up with them.

"Do you think . . . there's a better way?" Ginny panted. "How far do you think . . . we have to go?"

Harry shrugged, not breaking stride. "I'm not sure," he said. He slowed to a stop, breathing heavily. "But I think we can rest for a minute and then Apparate too them again like we did before. My wand is linked to them; I think if I take you side-along, we'll find them." He took several deep breaths. "Or else, I can do the spell again and keep tracking."

"Thank Merlin," said Ginny. She sunk to the ground. "How far do you think we've come?" She looked behind her. "I don't even see the windmill Ron and Hermione were checking out."

Harry sat down next to her. "I'm not sure," he said, looking around. "See those trees over there? They're the first ones I've seen. Until now, it was just tulips.

"There are still plenty of tulips," Ginny pointed out. She frowned into the distance. "But you're right. It's becoming more wooded up ahead. And the canal ends too."

Harry stood up. "We'd better find the trail," he said. He pulled Ginny to her feet and looked off into the distance as if gauging how far they had to Apparate. "Promise me something," he said, hoping his tone was as casual as he hoped.

"I'm not running away if you're in trouble, Harry." Ginny voice said she knew exactly what he was thinking."

"Yes you are," he said. He kissed her quickly before she could object. "If this goes badly, save yourself. I'll be fine, I promise. He knows by now that he can't kill me without destroying himself. But you . . ." Harry swallowed hard. "He'll think you expendable."

Ginny was quiet for a long moment, and then she threw her arms around Harry. "I love you," she said fiercely. "Don't make me choose what to do, okay?"

Harry knew she didn't expect him to agree, which was why he did. "Okay," he said, before concentrating on the orange sparks and turning on the spot.

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Inside, the windmill was one big room. The floor at their feet was dirt, but further in it became a planked wooden floor. Ladders snaked up the walls to a platform above their heads, on which Ron could see gears and metal chutes and other instruments that apparently kept the windmill running. There were two windows through which small patches of sunlight leaked, interrupted every so often by one of the mill blades crossing in front. At the very top of the pitched roof, a hole in the shingles let in a bit of sky. The odd sounds of the owls were just audible, although much less clear than from outside.

Hermione and Ron stopped right inside the door, which swung closed behind them.

"Don't move forward," she warned.

Ron wouldn't have anyway. Most of the dirt part of the floor was smooth, but the center seemed to have been the scene of some sort of small battle. If Ron had to guess, he'd think two dogs had been fighting over a bone, disrupting the dirt and digging small holes with their paws. In fact, as his eyes adjusted to the light, Ron realized that there actually was part of a bone, sticking out of the dirt in front of them. He pointed it out.

"Do you see. . .?" he began.

Hermione gripped his hand more tightly. "Yes," she said tersely. "And there's another one there." Her voice held a note of revulsion. "I think they're human."

Ron made a choking sound. "Human? Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," said Hermione. "I think if I . . ." she muttered the _wingardium leviosa _in a tone that said quite clearly she'd much rather be doing almost anything else. The bone nearest them shuddered a bit and then rose shakily in the sky. Hermione flicked her wand and the bone rotated in front of them. It certain _looked_ human to Ron, like it could have come from one of the skeletons that hung in many of the classrooms back at Hogwarts. Maybe from a leg. It rotated a second time and then crumbled in in on itself, dust raining down to the mix with the dirt below.

Hermione made a small sound. "They aren't new bones," she said.

Ron felt a moment of relief. "Maybe an animal dragged it in from a graveyard nearby or something," he suggested.

"Maybe," said Hermione, she sounded unsure. "I just wish I knew what _that_ was." She pointed to one of the ladders, and for the first time Ron noticed that it was splattered with something red and dripping.

"Is that . . ."

A hooting up above interrupted him. The owls had apparently found their way through the opening in the roof and were descending in rapidly tightening circles towards them.

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It didn't feel like they had Apparated far, but when Harry and Ginny caught up with the orange tracking sparks, the entire landscape had changed. The ground was still quite flat, but now they were in a peaceful forest, full of tall, rather evenly-spaced trees bisected by a wide dirt pathway.

"It's as neat and organized as the rest of the country," Ginny remarked. "Just darker." Indeed, while the trunks of the trees offered space between them, the tangled mess of branches far above let only scattered light hit the forest floor.

Harry still had his arms around Ginny, but now he took her hand. "The sparks aren't moving as fast now," he said, pointing ahead. They were sticking to the path, for which he was grateful. "Let's go, but slowly."

"Wait," said Ginny quietly. She pointed her wand at their feet and said a spell. "It will muffle our footsteps; Neville found it last year."

"Good idea," said Harry. "Should I do the Muffliato too? We're already disillusioned." In reality, he didn't think it mattered; Voldemort, if he was around, would know they were there.

"I don't think it matters," Ginny confirmed.

They kept walking. Although nothing around them changed, the further they got into the forest, the more Harry's unease grew, until it was almost like a physical thing, hammering in his brain. He made a small, involuntary sound of discomfort and Ginny looked sharply at him. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure," he said tersely. "I feel odd."

"Should we stop?" Ginny turned him to face her and looked him carefully in the face. "How do you feel odd?"

Harry shook his head and feeling dissipated a bit. "Not sure," he said. "On edge, for sure. And my head feels heavy." He shook it again. "It's better now."

Ginny looked around. "The sparks stopped moving," she said, pointing. Even as they watched, the arrow pointed itself up towards the trees and then did a quick dive, disappearing into the ground about ten feet in front of them. Until it disappeared, Harry hadn't realized how much light the sparks gave off; when they were gone, the forest became much darker.

"What do we do now?" Ginny whispered.

Harry couldn't answer. The odd feeling in his head was back, much stronger now. It was pain, but not pain like he'd ever felt before. His head felt stuffed full of sand, as if there was barely room for a coherent thought, and the sand was swirling and sifting. He put his hands over his eyes.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ginny's voice sounded far away.

Through the closed lids of his eyes, Harry sensed a sudden brightness. He forced himself to look.

The orange sparks had burst out of the ground and were hovering in the air like a fat column. They seemed to be covering something, or someone.

Harry fell to his knees.

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An owl landed on the dirt. It hopped in drunk-looking circles, hooting wildly and opening and closing its wings. Whenever it got too close to anything solid – the other owl, the wall, Ron and Hermione, it jumped away as if startled and then started circling again.

"It looks quite mad," Hermione whispered. She held something wiggling in her hand.

"What's that?" whispered Ron back. But then he saw it was a mouse, an ordinary barn-mouse.

"I brought some with me, as soon as Bill suspected there might be owl involvement." She tossed it towards the owl. For a second, the owl stopped moving and stared at the mouse, which seemed too stunned to scurry. The owl took a step forward, and then another. It opened its wings as if it was about to swoop down on the poor creature.

And then a sound from across the room, a nearly unearthly wail, filled the room. The other owl was . . . Ron wouldn't even call it hooting; it made his hair stand on end.

The first owl shuddered and turned away from the mouse to continue circling the floor. The mouse darted towards the door, but before it could get very far, the second owl, still making its horrible sound, glided off the platform where it had landed and scooped the mouse up so quickly that Ron had to blink to make sure what he'd seen. And once he understood, he only wanted to look away.

The second owl stood only feet in front of them, holding the mouse in its beak. It was shuddering, its entire body vibrating oddly and its eyes staring off into nothing. Ron would have thought it blind, but for its precision in capturing the mouse. And if the other owl was mad, this one was undeniably ill.

"What do you think's wrong with it?" he asked Hermione. For there was no question something was wrong. Although roughly the size and shape of a barn owl, its feathers were thin and a mottled, sickly greenish brown, a color Ron had never before seen on an owl. Even as he watched, a few more dropped to the ground. The owl seemed to be having trouble even holding itself up; it's legs shook and shuddered and the entire animal seemed on the verge of collapse. It didn't even seem to know how to eat the mouse, but neither would it let go, shaking its head from side to side as if trying to understand what to do. A couple more feathers fell off the owl's side and at the same time, it seemed to figure out how to swallow the mouse whole. Hermione gasped in horror.

"Oh god, Ron." She looked wildly around, and then skirted the room, running over to the red-specked ladder. She peered at it and then pointed her wand and said a spell. When she turned back around, her face was deadly white.

"The bones . . . it's human blood . . . the owls. We have to find Harry and Ginny immediately," she said, her voice cracking.

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"Harry? Harry!" Ginny was screaming at him, that much he knew. Harry forced his eyes open. The orange glow was in front of him but the red of Ginny's hair was closer and he tried to focus on that.

"Ginny," he said thickly. "He's . . . he's . . ." Harry couldn't make his mouth work. Ginny shook his shoulders.

"He's what?" she asked urgently. "Is he in your head like before? Fight him!" he was vaguely aware she was screaming. "I mean it, Harry, fight! Think of me, think of all the wonderful things I'm going to do to you later, I don't care, just get him out!"

"Not . . . not the same." Harry struggled to speak. For whatever he was feeling was not the same as when Voldemort had possessed him in the Department of Mysteries, or even when Harry had seen his thoughts and visions

"Think of me, Harry," Ginny urged. Her voice was low but insistent in his ear. He wanted to tell her to get away, to warn her that there was danger looming, even if they couldn't see it yet, but he couldn't. Her voice was the only lifeline he had to fight whatever it was that was filling his head and stealing his abilities. He grasped weakly at her hand, focusing on the red hair that filled his vision.

She felt his touch. "That's right," she said. "Hold on. When this is over I'm taking you to Grimmauld Place, okay? Up to our bedroom, just the two of us. I'm going to lock the door and pull you into bed and make you scream my name so loud it breaks all the silencing charms. Okay? But you have to Stay. With. Me."

It worked. The pressure that had been digging in his brain melted away, leaving Harry feeling vaguely ill and weaker than a baby. Ginny was kneeling in front of him with her hands on his cheeks, peering into his eyes. "Are you back?"

"Was I gone?" Harry's voice sounded odd in his ears, as if he was hearing it from over a long distance. He couldn't feel his limbs and was only partly aware that he was sitting on the ground.

"I'm not sure." Ginny sounded worried. "You had your hands over your ears and you were shaking; I couldn't get you to stop shaking. And when I forced you to look at me. . ." her voice trembled. "Your eyes opened but it was like you weren't there." She kissed his forehead. "Was it like at the Ministry?"

Harry didn't answer. There was something they were missing, something about the pain in his head and the forest and the owls, but he couldn't get his thoughts to coalesce into anything that made sense. Ginny's had was still on his cheek and she conjured a wet cloth to gently wipe his forehead. She moved to one side to help him sit more comfortably and Harry got a glimpse behind her.

"Go," he rasped. "Go now." The orange mass of sparks was growing, as if something inside was straightening up from a crouched position, and Harry felt the same sick horror of watching Voldemort's resurrection in the graveyard. The numbness in his limbs was getting stronger; he felt almost pinned against the dirt of the forest floor. He pushed weakly at Ginny. "He won't hurt me. Please go."

"Who won't hurt you?" The words were still on Ginny's lips as she turned. The tracking spell had worked, but the figure slowly rising up before them wasn't Voldemort. Harry stared, struggling to understand. The man stood in the midst of orange sparks that surrounded him like flames. He wore faded coveralls and the blocky wooden shoes that identified him as part of the Dutch working class; likely a Muggle. His skin was gray and his eyes wide and stared at nothing. He took a stumbling step towards them and Harry realized the man held a wand loosely in one hand. A familiar wand, made of yew.

The man took another step forward and Harry felt pressure begin to build in his brain again. Next to him, Ginny trembled. "Harry, it's . . . it's . . ."

"An Inferius." Harry forced himself to stay upright. "Voldemort killed a man, and he's possessing his body as an Inferius."

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Ron was still staring at the sick owl. Almost all it's feathers were gone now and even though it had swallowed the mouse, it hadn't seemed to actually have eaten it; they could see the rodent flailing wildly underneath the owl's gray skin.

"It's dead!" said Hermione, urgency palpable. "The owl is dead. He . . . he cursed it." She looked at the bones and the blood, and then pointed out a man's work jacket, hung neatly on a peg. "Someone else is dead too." She tugged at Ron's arm. "We have to find them. Now."

Ron didn't need asking again. Both of them burst out of the windmill and stopped short. Harry and Ginny and the trail of orange were nowhere in sight. "How do we find them?" he asked. He scanned the sky. "I don't see any green sparks." Indeed, the landscape in front of them was as peaceful and pretty as ever; there was not even a hint of the horrors that had taken place inside the windmill door.

Hermione was chanting and walking in a circle. Ron recognized some of the words needed to create a talking Patronus. "Won't that alert . . . everyone?" He bit back the name at the last second."

"It's not the talking one; it's a spell to let us follow it." She frowned. "But it will take us right to them; I'm trying to modify it to put us close instead." She kept walking in a circle. Above them the flutter of wings startled them both and Hermione stopped chanting. The first owl, the one that had seemed mad, had found its way out of the windmill. It flew a loop around Ron and Hermione and then took off into the sky again, flying purposely off in a direction they hadn't been.

"I think we need to follow it," said Hermione. "There's a spell to help us Apparate . . ."

"I don't care, let's just go!." Ron's voice was desperate. "If it's true, if he killed someone . . . are you saying he possessed the body?"

Hermione nodded grimly. "That owl was an Inferius," she said. "I'm sure of it. I don't know why or what he used it for, but it wasn't . . . it wasn't alive."

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Harry slumped against Ginny as soon as he finished speaking. Ginny shook him, but didn't take her eyes off the figure stumbling toward them. She focused her mind on the windmill Ron and Hermione had gone to and tried to turn. Nothing happened.

"You can't Disapparate from here." The Inferius' mouth didn't move, but Ginny heard a voice in her head and her blood froze. Its eyes stared blankly, but she could see them glowing red. The hand holding the wand still hung loosely at its side but as she watched, its arm twitched and began to move.

Frantically, Ginny tried to remember everything she'd learned about Inferi and how to fight them. They couldn't be killed, of course; what spells could cut them down? Her brain was sluggish, tossing back and forth between the danger in front of her and the need to protect Harry. She raised her wand.

"Fire." Harry's voice was weak. "It will hold it back. For a while." She heard him take a shallow breath. "Fire. And then send up green sparks."

"Incendio!" Ginny screamed the incantation and a wall of flames shot out of her wand. It made a barrier between the Inferius and her and Harry, but it wasn't as large or solid as she'd hoped. The figure took a step back and Ginny used the moment to grab Harry and pull him away from the flames. His eyes were closed again and when she let go of him to try to make the fire bigger, he slumped sideways on the ground.

"Sectumsempra!" she said, and a large gash opened up across the front of the body. It didn't have an effect.

"You can't destroy me in this state," Voldemort said in her head. "Quite brilliant, don't you think?" He took a step forward to a place where the flames were already dying down. Ginny looked down at Harry.

"He's safe for now, of course." Ginny had heard Voldemort speak before, but this voice, coming from the dead man, was so much worse. "I won't kill him until I have another means to survive." The Inferius waved the wand it held. "Murder, of course. "Murder will serve my purposes quite well. And how ironic that it's your murder that will give me life." The red eyes gleamed.

The Inferius was chanting, raising and lowering its wand in jerking movements. Ginny watched in horror. She sent spell after spell at it, but nothing seemed to work; at the most, she thought maybe she was slowing down whatever ritual it was doing.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Ginny heard the words and instinctively threw herself across Harry's body. She saw a pale green flash harmlessly off to one side and Voldemort give a cry of frustration. "Not there, fool! Stronger!" The body turned, and Ginny realized that the hand holding the wand was not jerking on purpose.

"Incendio!" she cried again, and another wall of flames erupted in front of them. She pulled Harry back farther and propped him sitting against a tree before setting every protection ward she knew around them both.

The Inferius stumbled through the flames. Its clothing was on fire, both fabric and skin and hair sloughing off as it moved. Ginny grimaced.

"_Avada Kedavra" _The voice was angry now, and maybe a little bit desperate. The spell didn't even get close to them this time; the Inferius' hand barely moved and the wand it held stayed pointing at the ground. It took another step.

"You can't beat us!" Ginny screamed at it. She shot more fire and suddenly a lot of things happened at once.

The Inferius fell to its knees, the wand slipping from its grip. At the same time, an owl swooped down and grabbed it before it even hit the ground. And then Ron and Hermione were there; Ron was shooting more flames and Hermione was chanting a spell Ginny had never heard. The Inferius fell face-forward and a black cloud flew up out of it and enveloped the owl in a choking smoke. Harry jerked on the ground.

"Stop it, stop the owl!" Ginny and Hermione yelled at the same time. Ron shot a spell into the air but the black cloud floated higher and higher, the owl inside hooting oddly and disappearing over the trees.

It was suddenly very quiet.

"Aguamenti," said Hermione, extinguishing the remaining flames. She conjured a shroud to cover the body.

"Harry?" Ginny hovered over him. He was breathing shallowly but evenly, and after less time than she might have expected, he opened his eyes.

"Ginny," he said weakly. His eyes found hers and did not look away. Ginny gave a cry of relief and fell on top of Harry, covering him with her body the way she'd wanted to as soon as the Inferius had risen up. After a few seconds, she felt one of his hands, awkwardly patting her back. That small movement, more than anything, assured her that Harry was okay, at least for the moment. She buried her face in his neck until Ron broke the silence.

"Shouldn't we, umm, get out of here? Like, as quickly as possible? He might come back you know."

"I don't think he'll try to come here again, but yes, we should go. Harry needs to be checked out and we need to talk." Hermione's voice was calmer now that she was making plans again.

"No." Harry struggled into a sitting position and leaned against Ginny. "I don't need a Healer."

Ginny rolled her eyes. It was a relief to do something so natural. "Of course you don't," she said. "You had Voldemort in your head, you almost got killed by an Inferius, but of course you're fine." She kissed him lightly.

"I didn't say I'm fine, I said I don't need a Healer." Harry threaded his hand through hers. "I don't remember everything that happened, but I do recall something about locking me in our bedroom and making me scream."

"Oi! Do you have to tell us about it!" Ron feigned indignance, but Ginny could tell he was as relieved as the rest of them to be able to talk about something normal again. "How do we get home?"

Hermione dug in her bag. "I have an emergency Portkey," she said. "Bill gave it to me. Just in case."

"Smart man, Bill," said Harry.

"Smarter would have been to give us each one," remarked Ginny. "But I'm not going to complain. "Where's it going to take us?"

Hermione was tapping it with her wand. "The Burrow, I think," she said. "He assumed it would be better than Grimmauld Place if we needed help. More people around."

"But we'll go to Grimmauld Place soon, right?" Harry reached out and touched the picture frame Hermione held. "And not just for . . . you know, _bedroom stuff_. We need to talk."

Ginny grabbed the frame too. "We need to do more than talk," she agreed. "After what happened here, I'm convinced. We need to perform a blood ritual."

She had timed her announcement on purpose. Everyone was touching the Portkey and it was starting to glow. Harry only had time to turn his head and look at her before the familiar jerk behind the navel whisked them all away.


	9. Nine

They arrived in a heap outside the Burrow's back door; no one feeling strong enough to even try to stay upright. Harry was still shaking, but that wasn't the only reason he held tightly onto Ginny's hand.

"A blood ritual?" Ginny, I'm not sure . . ."

"Shhh," she kissed him lightly before helping him to his feet. He leaned heavily against her for the walk into the house. "I know what you said before. But the position has changed. What I saw today . . . we need to do more to protect ourselves."

It was Ginny's recognition that she needed protection as much as Harry did that finally calmed him. Still dizzy, he allowed himself to be steered in the direction of the sitting room, only vaguely aware of the voices around him. Molly's was higher than the rest, and in short order, Harry was ensconced on the sofa with a blanket over his lap and a bar of chocolate in his hand.

"I'm getting you firewhiskey too, you look close to shock." Molly's voice was brisk, but even in his current state, Harry could hear the worry. He forced himself to focus, taking a big sip of the drink she offered.

"I'm fine Molly, really," he said around the burning in his throat. His brain cleared some more. Everyone else was sitting around him with similar cups and bars of chocolate. Ron and Hermione looked as shell-shocked as he felt, and he realized he didn't even know what they had found in the windmill. It couldn't have been good; they'd appeared only minutes after the Inferius, with an owl that was immediately attuned to Voldemort, or whatever part of Voldemort that had been possessing the poor, dead Dutch workman. He rubbed at his eyes.

"Does your head still hurt?" Ginny voice was soft in his ear. Harry shook his head.

"It doesn't hurt, exactly," he said. "It feels stuffed with cotton or something."

Hermione leaned forward. Her cheeks were pink from the whiskey and it made the haunted look in her eyes a little less intense. "Did he possess you again, Harry? Or were you able to see his thoughts? What do you mean, your head is full of cotton? Does it feel differently now than it did then? What did you see?" The rapid-fire questions made Harry's newly cleared thoughts begin to spin again. He leaned into Ginny.

"One at a time, Hermione," said Ron. "We all have a lot to talk about."

"Sorry, Harry." Hermione sounded contrite. "I'm trying to figure this out."

Harry rubbed at his eyes. "We all are, it's okay," he said. He looked up at a commotion at the sitting room door. Bill, Fleur and Arthur came in, along with several other curse-breakers and, Harry was sorry to see, a woman wearing Healer's robes. He waved her away. "I'm fine, really."

The Healer nodded. "Molly called me," she said. "I'm only here if needed." She settled herself into a chair. "But if I think I'm needed, nothing you say will change my mind." Her voice boded no argument.

Harry nodded, knowing he was beaten. "Yes ma'am."

"Thank you," said Ginny. "Harry's been quite ill."

"Hey," protested Harry. "I thought we just agreed I'm fine!"

Ginny kissed him. "You said you're fine; I'm not so sure. You didn't exactly see yourself, back there. You were so out of it; it was different than in the past." She leaned close to his ear. "I want to make sure you're all in one piece, for later."

Harry shivered. The urge to deny what Ginny was saying was strong. He'd always hated admitting illness or weakness to others; it caused them to worry. He had become so used to pretending everything was fine, he sometimes forgot that it might be obvious to those around him that he was not. But the memories of what had happened to him in front of the Inferius were fuzzy, and fuzzy in a way that was different from how he'd felt over the years when he had been able to feel Voldemort's emotions and eventually, see his perspectives. If he had to put a name to it, Harry would have said it felt as if Voldemort had been trying to siphon his thoughts, beyond anything possible with Legilimency. It was impossible, of course. At least, Harry told himself it was impossible; there was no way Voldemort was that strong, especially in his current state.

He thought all of this in the blink of an eye; no one would have even noticed. He knew he had to tell them, but he rationalized waiting; there were too many people around right now, and Harry didn't know who could be trusted. He squeezed Ginny's hand. "We'll fix it," he promised her.

"Damn right we will," she replied. "Right before I rip off your clothes." She reached over as if to brush a bit of fuzz of his trousers and casually swiped her hand across some of his more sensitive bits. "And that's a promise."

The new arrivals had found or conjured seats, and now the sitting room felt rather crowded. Harry took another drink of Firewhiskey.

"So tell us about the Inferius." Bill didn't beat around the bush. "Are you sure it was being possessed by Voldemort? And what is this about owls?

Slowly, the story came out. Harry agreed with Ron and Hermione that Voldemort must have possessed one of the owls himself as a means to travel – with his wand – from England. "But what about the second owl? You said you thought it was dead, but still moving?"

Hermione looked sick. "I think Voldemort tried to create an Inferius from a body at the graveyard in Little Hangleton," she said. "And then turned it into an owl. But . . . the body he used, it was . . . ugh." She shook her head.

"It was very deteriorated," said Ron. "We saw both human bones and the Inferius-owl." He shuddered. "It was horrible."

"And then he killed a Dutch Muggle; he must have been a maintenance worker for the windmills or something, and used that body instead," finished Ginny. She looked at Bill. "But the Inferius seemed to have trouble moving, even with Voldemort possessing him? All the spells it shot at us missed, and the color was wrong.

Bill gestured to one of the other curse breakers. "Lilac? This is your area of expertise."

The woman named Lilac nodded. "Inferi are little more than decaying flesh shells imbued with a simple, albeit evil, curse," she said. "They are unstable for anything beyond brute force and basic attacks. My guess is that the Inferius, even from a fresh murder, couldn't support being possessed by Voldemort, despite his current state."

There was something about the curse breaker's words that filled Harry with dread, but he couldn't quite pin down what was wrong. He was missing something, he knew, but the more he tried to focus, the more the idea slipped away. He shook his head and hoped it would come to him when he wasn't thinking about it. Instead, he thanked Lilac. "We were lucky, then," he said. "I was completely worthless. I don't know what would have happened if Voldemort had been better able to control the Inferius."

"Maybe nothing would have happened, right?" Ginny leaned forward. "I mean, I have Harry's protection inside me, right? From when he threw himself in front of the killing curse? So maybe the Avada Kedavra wouldn't have affected me, even if it had hit its mark."

"We don't know that. And you are definitely not going to try to test your theory." The words burst out of Harry more vehemently than he planned, but he was gratified to see that he wasn't the only one who disagreed with Ginny. Ron had jumped to his feet and Molly was wringing her hands. Bill and Lilac were speaking urgently to each other, Bill shaking his head. Finally, he looked up at Ginny.

"I'm sorry, but we just don't know," he said. He raised his hands to Ginny's protest. "Yes, I know how strongly you and Harry feel about each other, and I do believe that . . . his sacrifice has wrought some effect. We just don't know what it is or how strong." He fixed his sister with a stern look. "To assume it could protect you from the Killing Curse is foolhardy, Ginny. And I think you realize that."

Harry had never heard Bill admonish Ginny so bluntly. But instead of cowering before his obviously superior knowledge of curses, Ginny raised her chin. "All the more reason to do the blood ritual then," she said. Her voice was firm, but Harry felt her tremble against him and knew at least part of her bravado was an act. He put his arm around her. "Don't you see?" she continued. "You don't know, no one knows, and we're all at risk. Shouldn't we at least try to strengthen our protections?"

"Not if it weakens whatever protection you already have and not if it gives any of us, but especially you, a false sense of security." Harry matched Bill's bluntness. He turned to Ginny. "I'm sorry. I know it's completely unfair, but I can't. I just can't risk . . ." A lump rose up in his throat and he couldn't speak. No one else did, either. When he finally regained his composure, Harry spoke to Ginny as if she was the only other one in the room.

"You have to live, no matter what. You have to survive this. I know you think you won't be able to stand it if I . . . if I die, but you will. I've already died, you know. And you would have handled it . . . you _will_ handle it, if it happens. But I can't. I absolutely can't." His voice broke. "I know we've talked about this before. . . . and agreed . . . but no. I won't live without you, Ginny. And it's completely unfair to expect any differently of you. But I've contemplated my own death for years. It's part of me, even more now that I know the truth. You . . . not you."

Harry was barely aware that the silence in the room was punctuated by a soft sniffle from one direction, and a quiet cursed oath from another. He watched Ginny carefully, watched her eyes blaze with the need to object and then soften when she knew there was no other choice but acceptance. She didn't cry.

"I'm taking you to Grimmauld Place. Right now," she said. She looked at her brother. "Ron, Hermione, if you join us, please stay on your own floor." There was not a hint of blush on her face. She stood up and held out her hand. "Can we go?"

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Harry thought he'd feel better, finally getting time alone with Ginny. But as they arrived in the kitchen in Grimmauld Place, he realized his earlier feeling of odd dread was still present. He pushed it aside – opportunities to be alone were so few – and focused on the feeling of Ginny's hand in his and what it would feel like to be able to lie down with her again.

It worked; by the time they reached the third floor master bedroom, the knot in Harry's stomach had eased and his head had cleared. Still, the hand he raised to set the wards shook as it pointed at the door and his legs felt like rubber as they walked to the bed.

Ginny didn't follow him. She stayed in the middle of the room, arms crossed, as he sat awkwardly on the bed. "Are you coming?" he asked. "I thought this is why you brought us here."

"It is," agreed Ginny. "In a second." She too a step closer. "First, I want to know how many more times you're going to tell me - in front of my entire family, no less – that you're allowed to die but I'm not." Her tone was gentle.

Harry shook his head. "As many as it takes," he said hoarsely. "I thought I could accept it, that if I'm allowed to say I can't live without you, then I have to be okay with you not living without me. I even promised you, didn't I? But I can't. I can't even think about it." He looked at her. "Please don't make me talk about it anymore tonight. My mind is already completely messed up from whatever happened with the Inferius earlier. I know we have so much to plan, now that we know Voldemort is on the move, and there's so much to learn. And I'm ready for that. But if I have to add in any sort of ritual that could put you at risk . . . I just can't go there right now."

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Ginny didn't even try to argue with Harry. She knew he wasn't trying to be noble or brave or patronizing; he was very close to broken, thinking about her death. That she couldn't absolutely promise the one thing he needed more than anything didn't even matter, she simply nodded her head and then pulled her shirt over her head, unhooked her bra, and dumped them unceremoniously on the floor. Her jeans and knickers followed soon after.

Harry's eyes didn't leave her once. He watched her without any of the shyness or heat or anticipation that had marked their couplings up until now. He didn't make a move to take off his own clothes or even touch himself though his trousers as he usually did, but waited quietly while Ginny walked up to him, sitting sideways on the bed. When she was about a foot in front of him, he reached out and put his hands on her hips, pulling her to stand between his legs. He rested his head on her chest and ran his fingers up and down, from the sides of her breasts to her legs and then back again. She shivered.

And then he looked up at her and his eyes were pleading. "You're the only real thing for me, so much of the time," he said. "I can't lose that."

Ginny didn't even bother to say the words in promise. She pushed him back on bed until he pulled his legs off the floor and scooted back, and then followed him onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and Ginny felt his hands playing with her hair. In silence, she rested her head on his shoulder, and let his hands roam. There was nothing sexual in his touch; he was offering her the comfort that he couldn't with his words, and she knew he was taking in the realness and _here-ness_of her at the same time.

When Harry shifted on the bed and then moved her so that she straddled him more completely, she knew that his need for comfort was changing. Indeed, as she wrapped her legs around his waist, she could feel he'd gotten hard. Only then did she pull his shirt over his head and slip her hands down to cup his bum. He flipped them both on the bed and balanced above her with one hand while he fumbled with his belt and zipper with the other, and the entire time, his eyes watched hers.

He pushed himself down her body, and without preamble, found her center with his tongue. Ginny gasped in surprise, and the quiet sound seemed to spur Harry on. There was none of his earlier fumbling or joking banter, just focused attention. Ginny matched him, lifting her hips and then putting her hands gently on his head to move him to a better angle. She kept them there, letting him search for and hopefully find whatever he needed.

The room was quiet, save for the quiet sucking sounds Harry made with his mouth, and Ginny's occasional breaths of pleasure. When she climaxed, it was equally quiet; her small groan seemed to fill up the entire room anyway. Harry dropped his head, resting it between her legs as he breathed in and out. Normally, Ginny would have commented on his technique, or thanked him or something; this was all still new enough that they both wanted to reassure and praise the other. But this time she just let them be, waiting until Harry's breath slowed. He finally moved slowly up her body, his erection skimming across her skin, until he settled himself carefully between her legs. Ginny opened them wider and Harry made a small move with his hips and slid in, grunting as he did.

He lay flush on top of her without moving; it was almost the same position he took after orgasm, when he laughed that his limbs turned to rubber and couldn't support his own weight. But this time, Ginny felt Harry pulsing where their bodies connected and his breath was ragged on her neck as he struggled for control. She heard him swallow, and then he pushed up on his forearms and looked at her, brushing an errant strand of hair away from her face. He'd taken off his glasses, and his eyes were open and searching. Ginny kept hers on him too. Usually one or the other of them would look away at some point, either to focus inward, or because the intensity between them was so great. But this time, Ginny watched. She watched as Harry's eyes grew darker with emotion and his pupils dilated when she licked her lips. She watched as his movements against her became stronger and more purposeful and his gaze drew her into what he was feeling. And when she rose up to meet him and tightened herself around him from the inside, she watched as his eyes unfocused and she knew the edge he was approaching had blocked out everything, even her face.

And then, he was there, and he cried out her name, the first word either of them had said since Harry had confessed just how much he needed her.

"Harry," she groaned back,

While Ginny got dressed, Harry took down the wards around the bedroom. Almost immediately, Ron's terrier Patronus bounded in, giving Harry the uncomfortable feeling that it had been waiting outside the door for them to finish, much like a real dog. After a minute, it spoke in Ron's voice.

"Hey, umm. . . when you both are umm, through . . . meet us in the kitchen. Not too soon, because we are also . . . umm . . . just not too soon. See you later." The terrier faded away and Harry turned and grinned at Ginny.

"Well, that wasn't awkward at all," he said. He grabbed his discarded trousers.

"I'm not sure who this embarrasses most," agreed Ginny. She hopped off the bed. "But I'm glad we're meeting in the kitchen. I'm starving."

"Heh, I just ate," quipped Harry. Ginny swatted at him and Harry jumped nimbly out of the way. "Seeker's reflexes," he joked.

In response, Ginny whirled around him and leapt onto his back. "Chaser's reflexes," she said happily. "Now you get to carry me downstairs."

Harry groaned in mock annoyance, but tightened his arms under Ginny's legs anyway, enjoying the feeling of her arms around his neck and her hair brushing his cheek. He started carefully down the stairs, feeling normal for once, listening to her talk about exactly what she planned to eat. At the first floor landing, he stumbled, a thump in his head making his vision blur. Ginny immediately slid off his back and then held him up as he shuffled against the bannister, trying to stay upright.

"Harry? What is it?" Ginny's voice sounded far away. "Ron, help me get him to the kitchen."

Strong arms circled Harry's waist and he felt himself being guided down the hall. The pressure in his head receded bit by bit and by the time he was seated in a chair in the kitchen with a glass of water, he was able to open his eyes and look around without feeling dizzy. Three pairs of eyes were watching him with concern.

"It's not the same," he said heavily. "I don't know what it is, but this doesn't feel the same as when he got in my head before."

"When he had a body, you mean," said Hermione. "I've been thinking about it."

"Of course you have," said Ron with a slight grin. The hearty note in his voice sounded false, but Harry was glad for it nonetheless. He nodded.

"Of course you have," he agreed. "Do you think it has something do to with him not having a corporeal form right now?"

"I'm sure it does." The answer came from Ginny. "You said so back in the forest. And the closer that Inferius got, the worse you were."

Harry scratched at his head. "In my first year, when Voldemort was possessing Quirrell, my scar hurt whenever he got close. It doesn't exactly feel like that either, but it's closer. I can't explain it. I feel . . . fuzzier, like I can't grasp onto my thoughts."

Hermione looked concerned. "I'm not sure what's different this time," she said. "But I'll figure it out, I promise."

"But first, we need to talk about the bones," said Ron. He looked at Hermione. Her face was pale, but she nodded back.

"Bones?" asked Harry faintly. "The ones Bill and the others were looking for?"

"Maybe," answered Hermione. "But maybe not. The owl . . ." She broke off and looked at Ron.

He took up the story. "In the windmill, when the owl became an . . . owl-inferius, I guess, there were also some human bones around it. Really, really old ones. They pretty much disintegrated in front of us, but we're – Hermione and I – we're pretty sure Voldemort brought them there, that they were part of the first body he was going to use to make an Inferius."

"And when that body fell apart, he killed the Muggle to use instead," finished Harry.

"We figured that out," said Ginny. She looked at her brother. "But there's more?"

Now Hermione answered again. "There may have been more bones, or at least, one other bone. When we got to you and Harry, everything happened too quickly for me to see – the Inferius was on fire, Harry was unconscious, the black smoke, and then the owl swooped in – I didn't get a chance to see what it flew away with."

"Voldemort was possessing it," said Harry flatly. "And it was carrying his wand."

"I know," said Hermione. "But . . . and I'm not sure . . . but it could have been carrying something else too. A bone. His father's bone."

They all understood the implications. "Could you tell?" asked Ginny quietly.

Hermione shook her head. "Like I said, it all happened very quickly. And, after what we saw in the windmill, I don't even know if any bone would be in good enough shape to use." She swallowed and looked at Ron.

"So we wondered," he said. "If Voldemort might try to get a different bone to use. Instead of his father's."

Ginny shook her head. "Then the ritual wouldn't work, right? Bone of the father is what's needed." She sat up. So maybe he can't come back. Maybe he's going to be a half-life forever." She turned to Harry. "I know we can't know for sure, but maybe . . . maybe if we figure out that he can't resurrect, we can find a way, a spell, or a ritual or something, to just destroy whatever's left of him. That's got to be easier, you know?" The hope in her voice grew.

Harry hated to shatter it. He pulled her against his chest. "But we don't know for sure, and I don't think we can figure that out. We need to move forward assuming that he's going to find a way to come back. But what Ron means . . ." He looked at his best friend. "Merope?"

Ron nodded swiftly and Ginny gave a low moan of understanding. "Oh," she said quietly. She turned to Harry. "Do you even have any idea where to look?"

Harry wasn't surprised at how quickly Ginny overcame her disappointment that they weren't going to be able to simply destroy Voldemort in his current form. Still, he wondered exactly how much effort it was taking her. He shook his head. "We looked for the site of the orphanage last year," he said. "On the Horcrux hunt. But Merope's grave . . . I don't know if it even exists. But if he looks for it, then we need to look for it too."

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After a week of trying, finding Merope Gaunt's grave was nothing but a dead end. Hermione, aided by Bill, poured over books in Grimmauld Place's library and then performed a number of tracking rituals, and the quartet traveled all over London and beyond, to every possible place an indigent body may have been buried seventy-five years earlier. They found nothing, but importantly, they also found no evidence the Voldemort was looking either, or was even nearby. He seemed not to have returned to Britain.

"Yet," said Ron. "He hasn't returned yet. But he will." The four were sitting in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, discussing what to do next. Harry still got faintly dizzy in the sitting room and library, so they avoided those rooms. Hermione was still promising to try to figure out the cause, but had been sidetracked trying to find Merope's resting place. Harry had suggested Albania again and they were debating the pros and cons of going, absent any better ideas.

"But first we need to go to the Burrow. Tomorrow night," said Ginny. She turned to Harry. "Mum wants us all for dinner. It's been a long time since she's felt like cooking."

Harry had completely lost track of the days and couldn't say the last time he'd had a proper family dinner at the Burrow. As grateful as he was, for the chance for something so normal. he couldn't help but consider that, had Dumbledore's plan worked, the dinner should have been just the first in a series of many, many others. Now, all he could think was that looking towards things like his birthday - Ginny's birthday - Christmas - felt foreign. "That . . . that will be nice," he managed.

They went to the Burrow the following day, and Harry had to admit that its familiarity was calming. For the past weeks, he and Ginny and Ron and Hermione had been traipsing around Britain, and even though they'd Apparated back to Grimmauld Place each night, they'd usually been so exhausted – physically and mentally – that the evenings hadn't given any of them much comfort.

Now, they were all sprawled out by the pond, having their multiple offers to help firmly rejected. Harry was nearly asleep; his head felt clearer than it had in weeks, and with Ginny tracing her hand lazily across his back and the sound of crickets and birds the only noises, he felt himself sink into a stupor.

"What if . . ." Harry was barely aware of Hermione's voice.

"Shhh, not now. Let's just rest." Ron's voice was slightly harsher, but not enough to rouse.

"It's nice," he mumbled. He rolled from his side to his stomach. Vaguely, he was aware of Ginny's hand. "It is," she agreed.

When Harry woke up, it was still light, but the sun was sinking in the west. He was supremely comfortable, and when he blearily raised his head, he saw that someone – probably Ginny – had conjured him a pillow and light blanket. He turned his head and saw her looking gently at him. Ron and Hermione seemed to have gone.

"Did you have a good sleep?" she asked. "I've not seen you out that heavily in a long time."

Harry nodded; the cobwebs in his brain this time were a normal result of waking up and it was reassuring to feel something rather normal. "What about you?" he asked. He reached over and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear.

Ginny nodded. "I napped a bit too; it was lovely," she said. "We have about an hour before supper, although I'm sure we'll need a little time to get cleaned up first.

Harry rolled towards her. "I'm sure there's plenty we can do in a little less than an hour," he said.

Ginny scooted closer and hitched her leg over his hip. "I already set the wards," she said.

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Molly's dinner was delicious, albeit subdued. George was there with Angelina Johnson, and although he participated in the conversations and even set off fireworks when the pudding arrived, Harry could tell his heart wasn't entirely into everything. He couldn't really blame the bloke; Harry's wasn't either, and he wondered if it was ever going to feel any better now that Fred was gone. Still, everyone lingered around the table until well into the evening, talking mostly about nothing important at all. Any time a topic strayed too close to anything about current plans, or the Ministry, or the War, or anything else heavy, someone was quick to change the subject back to Quidditch or the food, or the state of garden and its gnomes, and the moment of tension relaxed again. When Ginny yawned and suggested they sleep at the Burrow that night, Harry agreed immediately.

He slept in Ginny's room, curling up next to her in her twin bed but not even thinking about doing anything beyond playing with her hair, rubbing her back, and listening to her breathe. Ginny fell asleep quickly, but Harry's long rest that afternoon kept him awake for several more hours. Maybe it was the nap, or the comfort of the Burrow, or Ginny, but Harry's thoughts felt more precise and focused than they had in a while. He felt very safe, which was probably why he finally let himself and his ideas go someplace he had so far not allowed. There _was_a way to end this and keep everyone safe, and no matter what Harry promised, he wanted to be ready if the moment required. Lying here, safe at the Burrow, made it easier to contemplate, and Harry let his thoughts roam and wander until he was satisfied. He'd leave some of them in a vial to be watched later – just in case. But for now, the lie and the promise were enough.

Rolling over, Harry felt oddly like a weight had been lifted even though, in reality, it had just become impossibly heavy. But the decision was made and that was a relief. Ginny shifted next to him and he kissed her hair. "Love you," she murmured."

"I love you," whispered Harry. Finally, he slept.

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It was with some reluctance that everyone went back to Grimmauld Place the following day. Harry suspected that even Ron had kept eating well after he was full just to have an excuse to remain at the Burrow a little bit longer. It wasn't that Grimmauld Place itself was uncomfortable; on the contrary, Kreacher's continued efforts to clean and organize and redecorate had made the place feel less like the former lair of dark wizards and more like a home. But even so, Harry knew what they all were thinking. They had failed to find Merope's grave and now they all had the feeling of starting over, once again. Hermione had mentioned revising her list, and Harry could only hope that she had some new ideas.

They arrived in the kitchen as always, this time, not at all hungry. Ginny fixed a pitcher of drinks anyway, and they all walked up to the library, where Hermione had been doing research on Merope's grave and what she said were "a few other things" that she thought might help.

She and Ron were walking ahead of Harry and Ginny, and Harry watched dispassionately as Hermione walked into the library and then stopped short with a gasp of dismay.

"What is it?" Ron asked sharply. He moved next to Hermione and looked down at the book she was pointing at. "I don't get it."

"Harry? What's wrong? Harry?" Ginny's voice sounded far away. Harry fell to his knees.

"He's been here. He saw what I was researching." Hermione was moaning.

"Who was here? Hermione?" Ron was getting louder.

"Harry? Stay with me, love. We'll get you to bed." Ginny's hand was on his back.

Harry needed to answer Hermione. He knew what she meant, what was wrong. He was the only one. With the greatest of effort, he opened his eyes. "It's Voldemort," he rasped. "She means that Voldemort was here. And he knows . . . he knows that we . . . what we . . .he saw it all." Through bleary eyes, Harry saw Hermione nodding in agreement. He felt the darkness in his brain descending.

"We have to get out of here, now. Ron, Apparate us away. Back to the Burrow. Now. Grab on, I have to hold on to Harry. Ron, please!"


	10. Ten

A/N: This is a shorter chapter; the next one has a lot of action in it, and I wanted to get this posted so I can get there.

They were still mid-Apparition when Harry's brain cleared. He filed that information away to examine later; for now, his intermittent illnesses were less important than the bombshell they'd discovered at Grimmauld Place.

But even before trying to deal with that, Harry put his arms around Ginny to assure her that he was, in fact, all right. She sagged into him the moment she realized he didn't need supporting anymore; he could feel her trembling. "I'm fine, really," he whispered, and then said again louder, so Ron and Hermione could hear him. He stood up straighter to prove it. "I promise."

Hermione especially looked close to shock. She shook her head. "But do you think . . .?" She stopped. "I don't know what to think," she said in a small voice.

"Me neither, not exactly," said Harry grimly. "But I have a few ideas." He looked beyond the trees to where they could just see the Burrow's roof. "I think we need to go to the house," he said, gesturing. "We need to talk to Bill. And hopefully Lilac is still there too."

It took a number of minutes to explain their sudden reappearance at the Burrow. Ginny, Ron and Hermione seemed content to let Harry explain, which he tried to do as briefly as possible. He couldn't exactly avoid saying the words, _Voldemort was in Grimmauld Place_, but he tried to soften them.

"He's not there right now, I'm positive," he said firmly.

"But how are you so positive? You collapsed as soon as we walked into the library, just like the last time he was in your head." Ron was trying to sound reasonable, Harry knew. He shook his head. "Everyone, sit down," he said heavily. He perched on the sofa in the living room.

"I think Voldemort's current state, as weak as it is, gives him certain . . . abilities . . . he doesn't have when he's more corporeal." He looked around the room. Molly and Arthur, Bill, Fleur and Lilac looked back at him. Harry was glad George had left, although it occurred to him they could use another episode of Potterwatch soon.

"Like when he possessed Quirrell?" asked Hermione. Harry nodded. "And when he was in the diary," he said. "Parts of him are completely dependent on the creatures around him who are willing to help, but he also has the ability to move his mind and thoughts, beyond the normal reaches of Legilimency." He took a deep breath. "I think that when we were in the Netherlands, Voldemort got into my head and stole the name of where we live. I wasn't thinking about it at the time, he couldn't have gotten it through Legilimency. His . . . essence or whatever he is now, literally crawled into my heads and started taking my thoughts."

A moment of silence greeting this pronouncement and Harry suspected that as soon as they all got over their shock, everyone was going to start talking over each other. He could see it on their faces – disbelief, disgust, confusion – and he wasn't sure he had the energy to resolve it all right now, not when there were more important things to discuss. But before even a single Weasley could speak, Lilac clapped her hands for silence.

"Harry's right," she said simply. "I'd wondered as soon as I heard that this is what he'd become after the Killing Curse hit him while he still had a final Horcux – Harry – out in the world."

"But why did he collapse in the library then?" Ginny looked at Lilac. "How can we be sure he's gone?"

"We can't," said Lilac bluntly. "Not until we all go back there, but my instinct tells me that it was a residual magical signature that affected Harry. If Voldemort had really been there. I think Harry would not have recovered as quickly."

"I felt better as soon as we were Apparating away," Harry confirmed. He looked at Hermione. "But there's more, isn't there?"

Hermione nodded. "I had a number of books out, researching different things," she said. "He must have seen them."

"What were they about, Hermione?" Bill's voice was uncharacteristically gentle.

"A . . . a lot of different things," said Hermione. Ron shuffled closer to her and took her hand. She gave him a grateful smile. "Some things about where indigent wizards might have been buried years ago – when we were looking for Merope's grave, and a book about non-corporeal power . . ."

"I bet he loved that one," said Bill darkly.

"Hush, Bill, let her talk," said Liliac. "We already know he's been trying to figure that out. Anything else, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded and took a deep breath. "I was researching Horcruxes again," she said. "Like, whether he might be able make another one, even if he doesn't have a body himself." She looked suddenly frightened. "Do you think he can? I couldn't figure out the answer, but he's killed someone else now – that Muggle worker. What if he used my research to create another Horcrux?" Her voice rose in panic, and Ron pulled her closer.

Harry leaned forward. "I don't think he did, Hermione. Even if he could, it takes pre-planning, and I think the murder and the Horcrux have to happen at the same time. And I doubt he would have been able. He didn't create one when he killed Bertha Jorkins, and I'm sure he would have, if he'd been able."

"He doesn't have a piece of soul right now to spare," confirmed Lilac. Hermione sagged in relief.

"That's one less thing to worry about then," she said. Bill leaned forward. "What else were you researching, I mean, what might he have seen?"

Hermione shut her eyes to think. "I . . . I'm not sure. I've been looking at so many angles; I'm not sure I remember what books were out at the time. But we need to know, don't we? Because it might make a different for where Voldemort's going next?"

"We need to go back to Grimmauld Place," said Harry. An idea had been forming while Hermione and Bill and Lilac talked, and he knew what he had to say.

"But we need to make wards protecting the place stronger," he said. "The Fidelius isn't enough, now that Voldemort knows about it. He looked at Bill, and then at Ginny. "You're right," he said softly. "We need blood wards."

HPHPHPHP

It took a remarkably short time to get everything prepared; the biggest concern was how Harry would feel once the group actually got to Grimmauld Place. Bill and Lilac went on ahead to confirm that no one was there, and to take down the Fidelius that had been protecting it for so long. They created another one, with Bill as Secret Keeper, and then returned to the Burrow to tell everyone where Harry's home was. It was an odd feeling, those few minutes that Harry did not know. He felt he should, that something big was missing, but no matter how hard he concentrated, he absolutely could not speak the name of his house until Bill returned to the Burrow and told him.

"But a new Fidelius isn't enough, we know. The blood wards will be impenetrable."

"But does Voldemort still have some of Harry's blood in him? Won't that make the wards ineffective?" Ron's practicality calmed Harry. He looked at Bill and Lilac.

"Not if it's mixed with Ginny's, right?"

Lilac nodded. "There's a ritual," she said.

Once he'd decided to go through with it, Harry didn't want any delays. There was barely time for him to look at Ginny, really look at her, and confirm that she agreed with him. But he pulled her aside just before they all Apparated away.

"I don't know if I would have agreed otherwise," he said honestly. "I still don't like the idea of doing anything that might make you more vulnerable."

She kissed him lightly. "I know that. And I'm sorry your hand was forced like this."

Harry shook his head. "I don't feel forced. I feel relieved, actually. Let's just get it done."

They met everyone in the kitchen and Harry and Ginny sat around the table, which was now inside a glowing circle Bill had created. Ron and Hermione would participate too, to create secondary wards, but the main wards had to be built with Harry's blood.

"We need Kreacher's blood too," said Harry suddenly. "If he'll agree." He couldn't explain why, but he knew the elf was tied more tightly to the place than anyone.

"Harry, you can't . . ." began Hermione.

"Can't what, Miss Granger? My master Harry has called me." Kreacher appeared in the kitchen with a soft crack, and his eyes grew wide. "It's blood wards you are doing. Kreacher knows them." He looked around, and then sniffed. "Evil was here. Evil, while Kreacher was out. I's can smell it." He looked at Harry. "Forgive me, Master, for letting the evil into your home. I was at Hogwarts, I didn't know!"

"It's okay, Kreacher," Harry assured him. "We didn't know either. But we're doing something now to make sure Voldemort can't get back again."

Kreacher nodded. "And you want some of Kreacher's blood to help." He put his arm on the table. "Take my blood for your wards too. It will strengthen them, even when I'm not here, my blood will help protect you too."

"Only if you're sure," said Harry. "We can do this without you. My blood, mixed with Ginny's, is strong enough."

Kreacher was already gesturing at the silver knife Bill held. "But mine will make them stronger." He looked around. "And where are the vials?"

This was the part Harry hated the most. They had to collect his blood, and Ginny's, and mix it magically. He could barely stand watching as Ginny sat calmly at the table, the cut Lilac had made down her arm bleeding freely. It collected in a silver bowl, and soon mixed with Harry's, and then Kreacher's. Harry watched as Bill chanted a spell and the blood glowed and swirled and then turned to reddish vapor and sunk into the walls of the kitchen. Harry thought he could feel the protections growing, and the knot in his stomach eased. But then Lilac turned to them.

"And now I need to collect blood from each of you, and bury it in the foundations of the house," said Lilac. "Harry and Ginny's will be mixed. Kreacher, yours will be separate."

The house elf was already eagerly holding his arm over a crystal vial. "And you know the proper spells for securing it?" he asked.

Lilac nodded, and Harry saw her mouth twitch with amusement. "I'm sure, Kreacher, thank you."

Once the vials were filled, Harry grabbed his wand and healed Ginny, and then Kreacher. He didn't wait for Ron and Hermione to sit down for their part in the ritual, but grabbed Ginny's hand and pulled her out of the circle.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?" he asked. Anxiety still bubbled within him; he couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding.

Ginny shook her head. "I'm fine, but you're still bleeding all over the place," she said. She tapped his arm with her wand and then wrapped herself around him. "This is a good thing, I promise," she whispered. Behind them, Bill and Lilac were collecting Ron and Hermione's blood too.

"Please don't promise," he said. "Because I can't."

Ginny nodded into his chest. "Okay," she said softly.

When the rituals were finished, Bill led them up to the library. Harry went last, flanked by Ginny and Ron in case he collapsed again. But his head continued to feel clear, and Lilac was pleased. "It means the wards are working," she said. "They've purged anything and anyone who's not supposed to be here."

While Hermione and Bill huddled over the books that were open on the table, Harry settled himself on the sofa with Ginny and began reacquainting himself with the patch of skin just above the waist of her trousers. Her shirt was already untucked, and so he counseled himself that he wasn't doing anything particularly _untoward_ in front of her brother as he brushed his fingers lightly across her side. Ginny shivered and made a tiny sound, so soft, Harry thought maybe he'd imagined it. From across the room, back towards the sofa, Bill muttered, "watch it, Potter," and Harry pulled his hand away.

Ginny giggled. "He won't really do anything, he's just showing off."

Harry shook his head. "I don't want to take the chance that he wards my bedroom to keep you out of it. I can wait."

Across the room, Bill turned around. "And you'll keep waiting, won't you, Potter?" His eyes were serious, but Harry detected the tiniest smirk about Bill's mouth. He nodded. "Yes sir," he said, "As long as you say."

Bill's smirk got bigger. "Don't make promises you can't keep, now."

His words, echoing Harry's to Ginny, brought Harry back to the seriousness of the situation. He sat up straighter. "Did you find anything?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "I remember now, I was researching whether the Horcrux remnants have any residual magic in them."

"Do they?" asked Harry sharply. "The diary sat in Dumbledore's office for years."

"I'm not sure," admitted Hermione. "I know they won't have had any of the soul bit left; that was destroyed. But I was just starting to look into whether they might have some other use for us. . . or him."

"And it doesn't really matter, does it?" asked Ginny. "If Voldemort thinks they're useful, he'll go off to find them." Everyone sat silently as the implications sunk in. Finally, Harry spoke what he knew they were all thinking.

"Fuck." He looked at the assembled group. "Voldemort's going back to Hogwarts."

HPHPHPHPHP

As much as he wanted to, Harry knew they couldn't all just Apparate to the castle straight away. School still wouldn't be starting for several more weeks, but there were a lot of people – students, former students, teachers, even inhabitants of Hogsmeade – who were there helping rebuild. If the group of them showed up out of the blue, word would get out, and it wouldn't be long before someone figured out that Voldemort might not be as dead as the public currently thought. Their only advantage was his current weak form. Harry was starting to get a better feeling of what Voldemort was capable of – and what he couldn't do – without a proper body. At the least, it slowed him down and bought them a couple of days to plan. Or so he hoped.

"We need Pottewatch again," he announced. "To come up with a reason for everyone to clear out of the castle. And Ron and I need to talk to Kingsley; we may need help from the Aurors. I think two days should be enough to set everything up."

Everyone looked apprehensive, and Harry understood why. The delay felt dangerous, but there was nothing they could do. Ginny spoke first. "I'll contact George. What do you want him to say?"

Harry gave her a grateful smile. "And I'll say something to Lee. It needs to be dangerous enough that no one will be tempted to stick around."

"An infestation of Acromantulas that needs to be eliminated?" suggested Lilac.

Harry grinned at Ron's face. "It's fake Ron, remember?" He shook his head. "That would probably only take a day or two, if we brewed a potion to fog the entire castle. It should be something more open-ended."

"Just how long do you think this is going to take?" asked Ron. He still looked pale and Harry knew he was thinking of spiders.

"I don't know, but I'd rather not be working on a deadline," said Harry. "Who knows where Voldemort is going to be or what he's going to do once he's there. Even half-destroyed, the castle has a lot of places to hide." He tried to speak gently, so as not to make the danger they were facing sound any worse than it was, but he knew no one was fooled. It had been frightening enough to confront Voldemort's remains in the Netherlands. To think about what he might be able to do in the familiar corridors of Hogwarts was terrifying.

No one said anything though. Harry didn't expect them to. He knew they weren't going to back down from helping him and he knew better than to ask by now.

HPHPHPHP

Potterwatch the next night featured an exclusive interview with a Death Eater who had been working deep, deep underground in support of the Dark Lord. Reut Seiler had spent months riddling the most out of the way nooks and cranny's of Hogwarts castle with dangerous curses, and he was certain that a number of them had survived the final battle intact.

"Ahhh, yes. It will be quite amusing, won't it? The first time two stupid Muggleborns try to find a quiet place to snog, and end up with spikes through their eyes?" His cackle of glee raised the hair on the back of Harry's neck, which was ridiculous, since he knew that it was just Lee, his voice magically modified to sound sinister and cold. "There are curses all over the castle; no way the Aurors are gonna be able to find 'em all. Not before school starts. I'm keeping my own son home, I am."

Within hours, Kingsley had announced that a specially trained crack team was going to be placed inside the castle, and they would not rest until every last dark curse had been uncovered and rendered harmless. Kingsley promised that he would walk through every inch of the school himself to prove it was safe, before he'd let a single student or teacher walk through the front doors.

Within an hour, everyone who'd been working on the rebuilding was gone. Kingsley's Patronus shone in the center of the library.

"We'll have Aurors waiting in Hogsmeade and the Forest," he said. "No closer until . . . unless we get your signal."

Harry nodded, even though he knew Kingsley couldn't see him. "Does everyone have their signal coin?" he asked. After his and Ginny's failure to send up green sparks in the Netherlands, Hermione had come up with a simpler means of contact. She had performed a spell on their wands and then on the coins, so if any of them came into the proximity of a dark spell cast by another wand besides theirs, it would alert the waiting Aurors.

"And we'll be there too," said Bill. He gestured to himself and Fleur. "Lilac is going to be at Gringotts in case we need help from the other curse breakers."

"Thanks, Bill, for everything," Harry said. He looked at his friends. Anything he wanted to say would be meaningless; he just hoped they all understood.

He took a deep breath and told himself that this time, it wasn't going to be like their last trip to Hogwarts. He grimaced. It likely was going to be worse. He squeezed Ginny's hand. He didn't feel any different physically in the aftermath of their blood ritual, but the mere knowledge weighed on him. He didn't know if she felt even more important to him because he thought she should, or because it was an actual result of the spell. It didn't matter. Losing her had never been an option for him; now it felt impossible. Taking one, longing glance towards to staircase and wishing he could whisk Ginny up to bed with him instead, he wrapped his arms around her and turned on the spot.


	11. Eleven

A/N: Life has been kicking my ass lately, but I was determined to get this written. I planned to have another scene or two at the end, but that will have to wait until the next chapter. It's a marathon, not a sprint, right? This has not been aggressively edited; if I tried that, it would probably end up sitting another week. The next chapter of Reversing Course is also well on its way, and I'll be honest, I kind of want to see what happens next with Harry and Ginny myself.

Harry was surprised to see how much progress had been made, restoring the castle. Corridors he last remembered being filled with rocks and rubble were clear, walls were rebuilt, windows gleamed. Everything felt oddly sterile and unfamiliar, and it made him uneasy. He was pretty sure he still knew where the hallways led, and where most of the secret passageways were hidden, but the tapestries had new designs on them, and a stairway he expected to move stayed disconcertingly still. The quiet was more than just the absence of students; the paintings damaged during the battle had not been rehung, and their constant chatter was conspicuously missing. The few paintings still on the walls were in such bad shape that Harry thought they might have been deemed beyond repair, ignored until they could be replaced. The old-fashioned children who had once frolicked gaily in a pasture lay in a dazed heap on the grass. One turned to look at them as they walked past and Harry was startled to see the child's pupil's had been painted a strange milky white. A little further on, a lively collie some long-ago students had named Miggs now looked almost skeletal. He whined mournfully as he ran back and forth in his frame, apparently unable to leave for a visit with the poodles who had once hung nearby.

Harry forced his gaze away from the broken paintings. He took Ginny's hand and then took a deep breath before continuing to lead everyone down the hall towards the headmaster's office. A large pewter vase – almost like an oversized trophy – stood in a corner that Harry didn't recognize; normally he'd turn left and see the gargoyles. Instead, there was a wall.

"They haven't added back all the magic yet, to the new parts," Hermione explained. "That's the last step, and it requires a lot of effort. Some of it has to grow organically too; I suspect the castle is going to feel rather different for a while."

"Until the students arrive and put their marks on things, for sure," said Ron. He looked around. "Looks like there's space behind this thing," he said. He walked past Harry and peered at the back of the vase. "Yeah, there's space to get through here," he called back over his shoulder.

"Okay, but will that . . ." Harry began. But Ron had disappeared and Harry hurried to catch up, pulling Ginny along with him.

Harry was relieved to find the four of them in the Charms corridor. It shouldn't have been on the other side of where they'd been, but a walk down the hallway and then two quick turns put them in front of the spinning staircase. Before approaching the gargoyles, Harry finished his question.

"Will the changes and lack of magic in the walls affect the destroyed Horcruxes, or what we're trying to do? I don't want to waste our time here." Already, he was feeling pressure again to succeed. He'd been certain that coming back to Hogwarts again wouldn't be a dead end like it had the first time. Voldemort had to be here, in some form. If not, if they had to start over trying to track him down, Harry wasn't sure he'd be able to stand it. Despite having lived obliviously with the Horcrux inside him for so long, the knowledge itself now felt poisonous. He took a deep breath, determined not to let his concerns show. To his relief, Hermione shook her head.

"There are plenty of parts of the castle that are intact," she said. "Didn't you say the Headmaster's office wasn't affected? I think starting there is a good idea; it's familiar, and we can search that secret vault where Dumbledore hid the sword of Gyffindor."

"If it's secret, how are we going to find it?" asked Ron reasonably. "I daresay Dumbledore knew a right bit more of magic than we do."

"We'll ask his portrait, of course," said Ginny. She looked at Harry. "The portraits may even know if . . . You Know Who's been here."

Harry grimaced to hear the Dark Lord's nickname being used again, but Bill had suggested it, and everyone had agreed it was a good idea. Harry knew it made sense, but it added another twinge of unease to his nerves, an additional sense of unfamiliarity he couldn't seem to shake. He squeezed Ginny's hand. She leaned into him and snaked one arm around his waist as they walked. Harry felt some of the knot of anxiety in his stomach ease.

The gargoyles hadn't been repaired yet, but the moving staircase twirled them upwards without incident. Inside, Harry couldn't mask his sharp intake of breath.

"Bill said the governors still need to select a new Headmaster," said Ginny.

"Which means figuring out which governors weren't Death Eaters," added Ron. He looked sharply at Harry. "You okay, mate?"

Harry nodded roughly. The room, untouched by the battle, felt too familiar, particularly after the oddness of the rest of the castle. Even without having been there for over a year, Harry felt like he might have been eleven years old again, meeting with Dumbledore to talk about the Chamber of Secrets. The Pensieve he'd Accio'd after the battle - after Hermione had remembered the bottle of Snape's memories in her pocket - was sitting on the edge of the dusty rug, half underneath a chair. Harry had made sure to send it back here, but had been too shocked to take much care with his spell to place the bowl back into its cabinet. He walked forward and nudged it with his toe.

"Did we get Snape's memories back out, first?" he asked. "If V. . . you know who was here, he couldn't have seen them, could he?" He turned around. "Like he did in the library?"

Hermione shook her head. "I took them," she said quietly. She held up her small beaded bag. It had become such a part of her outfit that Harry barely noticed she still carried it everywhere. "He couldn't see them."

Harry nodded. "Smart," he said. He stepped forward and looked at the portraits lining the walls. To a man, they all were asleep, but Harry was sure some were only pretending. He approached Dumbledore. "Excuse me, sir?"

The portrait's eyes opened immediately; the painted figure didn't even pretend Harry had awoken him. He gave a sad smile, no twinkle behind his spectacles. "Harry."

Any intent Harry had to make small talk or ease into a calm explanation of why the four of them were there evaporated, and the words tumbled out of his mouth unchecked.

"We need the Horcruxes, the old ones. Vol . . . You Know Who wants them too, did you know that? Was he here already? We need to find him and stop . . . whatever he's planning. Was he here? Are the Horcruxes? They're in the vault, right? Can we get them? Do you know where . . . he might be?" Harry knew he wasn't making enough sense, even for a portrait as intelligent as he hoped Dumbledore's was. The man himself would have been able to follow, but Harry wasn't sure if the painting needed more of the _why_ as well. He took a deep breath, but before he could explain more, a wheezy voice spoke from across the room.

"He was here, I think. Not long ago, maybe. I'm not sure. What did you see? Was young Tom Riddle here?" The voice seemed to speak to the room at large, and a cacophony of voices broke out. None of the paintings were asleep anymore, not when it was much more interesting to debate whether, and when, 'young Tom Riddle' might have last been in the room.

Harry walked over to where the original voice had come from. A very bald wizard in blood red robes peered at him through a pair of thick glasses. "Was it you, who spoke first?" he asked.

The wizard – Miles Aparthing – gave a small shrug. "I think so, yes," he said in the same wheezy voice. "Tom was here. He was asking questions."

"When?" asked Harry. "When was he here? Could you see him? Did he have a body?" He was leaning forward, and realized his hands were out, as if to grab the painted figure and shake the answers from him. Harry forced himself to take a step back, and ran right into Ginny. She'd come up behind him, and now wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"Don't waste your time with him," she whispered low to Harry's ear. "Dumbledore said he's a nutter and has no sense of time passing. Likely he's remembering when Tom came here to ask for a job all those years ago."

Harry sagged. He'd been anticipating a better answer, a clue even, to Voldemort's whereabouts. But all the portraits were still chattering at each other, and from the snatches of conversation he could follow, it seemed like none of them were certain if they'd been visited by anyone in the past weeks, let alone the vaporous remains of the Dark Lord. "Dumbledore's telling Ron and Hermione how to open the vault," Ginny continued. There's a spell Hermione wants to do on the Horcruxes, it takes a couple of hours. It'll let us know if there is any residual soul in any of them."

"What if You Know Who got here first? No one seems to know if he was here or not." Even Dumbledore had shrugged his shoulders at the question. Harry ran his hand through his hair. Even as they were speaking, Voldemort could be doing . . . something with tiny bits of his soul, putting them back together, gaining power. He shuddered.

Ginny shook her head. "I think if he'd gotten here first, to the office, you'd feel him, right? He'd probably still be here, actually. Trying to get through the wards Dumbledore set around the vault."

Her words were calming, and Harry nodded. "You're right, I wasn't thinking clearly."

Ginny kissed his jaw. "I'm not surprised; I feel like I've been on an out-of-control broom these past few weeks. Everything changes to quickly."

"That's a good way of putting it," said Harry. He ducked his head toward her, encouraging more kisses. "Even though we didn't have much more of a plan during the Horcrux hunt, things seemed to move a lot more slowly, until the end at least." He gestured across the room. "Like that, look how fast they got the vault open." Across the room, he watched as Hermione carefully levitated the destroyed locket into the air and set it gently on the desk next to a piece of parchment. The ring, diary, cup, and tiara were already there. Harry knew it was probably his imagination that each former Horcrux seemed to glow with a sinister light. "I guess we won't get a piece of Nagini," he said.

"And thank goodness for that," said Ginny with a shudder. "I saw Bill burning the snake's body; there's nothing left."

"Good," said Harry. It was a minor thing not to have to worry about, but it was something. He turned towards the desk when a low 'pssst, boy' stopped him. Ginny looked around. "Which portrait said that?"

"I did." The voice came just to the left of Harry's ear. Former Headmaster Armando Dippet gazed at them from an ornate frame that was nearly bigger than the canvas stretched between it. He looked around before beckoning Harry and Ginny closer. "I know where he is," he said in a low voice. "Headmaster Aparthing isn't quite as demented as the rest seem to think. He's right; Tom Riddle is close by."

Harry supposed it was an indulgence of these former educators that they continued to call even the most grown and dark wizard by his schoolboy name. He nodded in understanding. "Did he get into the vault?" he asked quietly? He looked quickly behind him. Ron and Hermione were bent over the desk, both with their wands out. Hermione was mouthing something Harry couldn't hear.

"No, not the vault," said Dippet. "He's elsewhere. We had a talk though. I'd watch out if I were you."

"Armando, you're not to help, remember? Especially when you're help isn't really . . . helpful.. You know that!" Phineas Nigellus Black was glaring down from his position on the wall. "We can't say anything, not without a headmaster to assist."

"You know I don't agree, Phineas." Headmaster Dippet had to tilt his head to see up to where Black was. "The absence of a headmaster means we may assist whomever we choose."

"No, it means we can't help anyone!" the voice came from a completely different direction, and immediately, the room erupted again into disagreement, as the portraits shouted over each other.

Harry ignored them all. He grabbed Ginny's hand and walked over to the desk, where Ron and Hermione were still deep in concentration, as if unaware of the discussion around them. As soon as he and Ginny got close, the sound of the yelling portraits cut off abruptly. Harry looked around. "Did you set a ward?"

Hermione nodded tersely, still focused on the objects in front of her. They were each vibrating slightly, and at least one gave off a faint hum. "Too much noise otherwise," she said. Next to her, Ron lifted his own wand higher and Harry saw a whitish mist pour out of the end.

"That's right then, isn't it?" he asked. Hermione looked at the parchment.

"It is, yes," she said. She lowered her arm and Ron did the same. She looked at Harry. "Sorry. Each step in the spell cannot be interrupted, but we have a couple of minutes now. What did you find out?"

"You Know Who's in the castle, somewhere," said Harry quickly. "At least two portraits told us so. He wasn't here, so we need to figure out where he is. I have a couple of ideas." He looked at the Horcruxes. "How long should this take?"

"I'm not sure," said Hermione. "It seems to be working, but slowly." She gave Harry a small smile. "So far, we aren't finding any residual soul."

"Good," said Harry. He rocked on his heels. "Do you need us?" He wouldn't abandon Hermione and Ron, but knowing that Voldemort was somewhere close by was difficult to leave alone. Even if he and Ginny didn't quite have a plan for facing him, searching was better than waiting to be found.

"We're fine here, but Harry, do you think it's a good idea? To separate again?"

"We don't even have a plan for what to do when we do find him," Ron pointed out. "What if he's possessing another dead owl? Or worse?"

"He won't be," said Harry, with more conviction than he felt. "You saw him last time; he's too weak as an Inferius. I bet he came here because of what he saw in the library at Grimmauld Place, and now he can't find the Horcruxes. We need to go look for him while we still have the element of surprise."

Both Ron and Hermione looked doubtful. Next to him, Ginny was very quiet. She slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. "He's still weak, we need to take advantage of that," she said. "Not to mention the fact that we know the castle at least as well as he does; it will be harder for him to sneak up on us here, compared to somewhere else."

Eventually, Ron and Hermione agreed; they didn't really have another choice. Voldemort had to be found, and it didn't really matter at the moment if two of them started looking or all four. They had their coins, their wands, an empty castle, and the suspicion that Voldemort was somewhere inside. It wasn't much to go on, but Harry worried it was too much anyway. He slapped Ron on the back and gave Hermione an awkward hug, and watched Ginny do the same, but with much more grace. Ginny cast a _Muffliato _around them so they could talk, and then they slipped out of the headmaster's office and down the twirling staircase.

HPHPHPHPHP

The first thing Ginny realized was that they hadn't accounted for how Harry was going to manage physically. They were only two corridors away from the headmaster's office when Harry made a low sound of discomfort. "He's been here," he said. Ginny saw him swallow hard. "I can feel it in my . . . well, all over." He looked around, and then closed his eyes. "Give me a minute."

Ginny put her hand on Harry's arm while he leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. After a few moments, he opened his eyes. "It's moving away," he said. "I'm okay."

Ginny shook her head impatiently. "No, you're not," she said. "How are we supposed to find Vo . . . _Him_, if getting close makes you sick? We need to go back to Ron and Hermione."

"No!" the word burst out of Harry and Ginny looked at him in surprise. "I mean, we don't really have time," he said. "I'm . . . I'm getting more used to the feeling; I think I'm figuring out how to fight it. Let's keep going. I want to try the Slytherin common room."

Ginny knew Harry was lying; he'd gone as pale as before as soon as he'd felt Voldemort nearby. And Ginny knew that if it came down to facing Voldemort or saving Harry, she wasn't sure which one she'd pick. She didn't say any of this though; it wouldn't change their plan. She'd just have to be prepared to shield Harry if necessary. She nodded. "That's good," she said instead. "Do you know where their common room is?"

"Yeah, Ron and I visited it when we were trying to figure out if Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin," said Harry. He knocked her hip. "Have you never heard that story? Hermione brewed polyjuice and turned herself into a cat."

Ginny snorted. "I'd forgotten that part," she said. She was glad to see Harry's color was returning as they walked down the hallway. Although, she supposed that was a bad sign, as far as finding Voldemort was concerned.

Harry seemed to realize it too. "We're going the wrong way," he said. He pointed to a suit of armor. "I think there's a shortcut to the dungeons behind there," he said. "Maybe he went that way."

Ginny wanted to say she thought it was a very bad idea to try to follow Voldemort's path, that maybe they should take a longer way around, but the set of Harry's shoulders kept her mouth shut. It was like the runaway broom again, everything was moving too quickly, but there was no clear way to stop it or change direction. So she gripped her wand and tried to keep her eyes both on the corridor in front of her and on Harry at the same time.

They'd walked for almost another ten minutes, though passageways that sloped gently down, before Ginny knew they were headed in the right direction. Harry's breathing became suddenly labored, and when Ginny looked fully at him, she could see his face scrunched up in pain. "How bad?" she whispered, despite the _Muffliato_.

"It's okay, keep going," he said in a strained voice. "The stairs down to the common room are around the next corner, I think."

They didn't make it there. Ginny could see the light at the end of the corridor when she heard Harry cry out, and felt his hand slip out of hers. The _Muffliato_ evaporated and Ginny could hear a voice, just out of sight. _No, it was two voices. _She froze, staring forward at the end of the corridor. When nothing immediately appeared, she risked a quick glance to where Harry had fallen. He was on his knees, leaning heavily against the wall, but his eyes were open and he held out his wand in a shaking hand.

He caught her eye.

_The coin? _She mouthed at him? The voices grew closer. One was not much more than the whispering hiss Ginny remembered from the Dutch forest. ". . . have patience," she thought it said. The reply made Ginny's heart drop. She hadn't heard the voice in years, but there was no mistaking his smooth tone and calm assurance.

"Together, it will work, it's quite brilliant, actually," he said. It was as if no time had passed at all.

Ginny reached blindly for Harry and thrust her other hand toward her pocket, cursing the fact that she couldn't remember which one held the coin.

"No," Harry rasped. She felt him grab onto her hand and dared another quick look.

Ginny could tell it was taking Harry every ounce of energy to stay conscious, but he forced himself back to his feet. "Run," he managed. "The left. Shortcut." He pointed at a tapestry.

Ginny didn't hesitate. Wrapping her arm around Harry, she stumbled them towards the tapestry. His feet dragged, but he moved forward with her, and Ginny prayed he'd have enough strength to stay upright until she could get somewhere she could try to charm him lighter.

_Please, _she begged quietly to the air.

She didn't know if it was her imagination, but the tapestry seemed to move aside for them of its own accord. Ginny dragged Harry behind it and into the pitch-black passageway behind it. She had no idea where they were or where they'd end up; this must be one of the new corridors the castle was building on its own. Harry's breathing was loud and his feet stumbled over the stone floor, preventing Ginny from being able to hear if they were being followed. Next to her, Harry tried to speak.

"That . . . was that . . ." he began in a strained voice. He listed against her and Ginny could feel him trembling.

"Shhh," she murmured. "Not yet." Harry immediately silenced, but Ginny had no idea if he'd heard her or was beyond the ability to say anything more. Her own breath was coming in gasps from the strain of trying to support Harry and her back and legs and arms burned with effort. Ginnyt could tell he was trying to help as much as he could, and it terrified her to feel his feet dragging more and more, and to realize that he was now barely upright. A flash of light appeared in front of her, and with a final heave, Ginny pushed through another tapestry to find her and Harry in front of a familiar expanse of wall.

She didn't stop to question how they'd traveled from the dungeons to the seventh floor so quickly. Finding new strength at the prospect of safety, Ginny dragged harry with her as she made three tight passes back and forth in front of the wall.

_I need someplace for Harry to recover in safety. _Ginny knew her request wasn't perfect, but it was all her terrified brain could think at that moment. A small wooden door appeared as soon as Ginny completed her third pass and swung inward on its own. She pushed Harry through, dragging him until the door slammed shut behind them. A wide purple sofa caught Harry as he fell forward, and a chamber pot appeared when he leaned over to vomit.

Ginny felt her own knees give way, and suddenly she was sitting on a soft chair next to Harry. For long minutes, the only sounds in the room were each of their heavy breathing, punctuated with an occasional retch from the sofa. Ginny wanted to reach forward, wanted to comfort Harry, but she didn't even have the strength to put her hand on his back.

About the time the chamber pot winked out of existence and Harry's breathing eased, Ginny was able to move again. She got out of the chair and sat next to Harry on the sofa; this time when he leaned against her, it was deliberate. Still, she didn't want to say it.

He did instead. "I heard them," he said quietly. "Not what they said, but . . ." he swallowed. "I know who they were." Ginny heard resignation in Harry's voice. "You Know Who. He was talking to himself, wasn't he? Somehow, he was talking with Tom Riddle."


	12. Twelve

A/N: This has taken me a lot longer than I wanted to get written; I hope at least a few of you still remember what's going on! The next chapter is actually going to be more like an outtake, and it should be coming along shortly. Special thanks to the Discord server for quickly answering my technical questions and to betas, blind and not, that helped me with the "creep" factor in this chapter.

The silence lasted half a beat before Ginny nodded in agreement, horror etched on her face. "But how?" she asked. "How could Tom Riddle be here?" For there was no doubt that the voice she had heard talking to the disembodied Voldemort was the same one that had climbed out of the diary and into the Chamber, all those years ago.

Harry rubbed at his face. "I don't know," he said heavily. "I thought one Voldemort was bad enough, but if he's now somehow two . . .?" his voice trailed off.

"Then he's a lot further along in figuring out how to come back than we thought," concluded Ginny.

"Or he is . . . no, he couldn't be," said Harry. "If he was fully returned to life, we'd know it already, right?"

"I don't know," said Ginny doubtfully. "I don't trust anything I think anymore. I mean, he doesn't have another of his father's bones, does he? Didn't Bill say they were all pretty disintegrated?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't think they could tell for sure. Or maybe he figured something else out, some other way. Maybe there was something in those books in the library at Grimmauld Place that he understood, even if we didn't."

Ginny watched as Harry's face sagged with the possibility. They'd all been assuming it was going to take Voldemort a while to regain full power – last time it had taken him more than thirteen years – could he have really managed it in just a few months this time? The uncertainty was almost worse than the idea of facing him, Ginny thought.

"Do you think he knows we're in the castle?" asked Harry suddenly. He jumped up. "We need to warn Ron and Hermione." But it was immediately obvious that he'd moved too quickly. Ginny watched Harry's face turn pale and his legs give way. She didn't even have time to try to help him before he'd stumbled heavily back onto the sofa. He leaned back with a groan and closed his eyes. "Maybe not," he mumbled. "Can you do it?"

"Yeah," said Ginny. She frowned to herself. Should she have Ron and Hermione come here? The thought of them walking blindly through the castle when Voldemort – now _two_ Voldemorts – were who knows where. "Maybe I should tell them to stay in the Headmaster's office," she said, half to herself. Harry just grunted, hand over his eyes.

Ginny stood up, wondering if Voldemort could somehow detect if she sent a Patronus. She fingered the coin in her pocket. It would activate to call for help on its own if it detected dangerous spells nearby, but she could also use it to call Ron and Hermione herself. But that would cause them to come to her, and she didn't want that. The Patronus seemed her best bet; maybe its magic would somehow avoid detection. It was a weak assumption, but that didn't really matter; Ginny didn't have a better idea. She sent the Patronus without mentioning Riddle, hoping Ron and Hermione couldn't detect the slight waver in her voice, and that she sounded confident and definite enough that they would listen to her and just stay put for now. A thought came – did Hermione know how to create a Portkey? That was the only way she could think that would allow an immediate escape from the castle. They should have had Bill and the others take down the anti-Apparition wards, she thought suddenly. Why hadn't they?

Ginny took a deep breath. Someone had probably considered it, she decided. It probably wasn't possible, or at least not very easy. They had rushed up here without too much time to plan; taking down the wards from the entire castle probably was a bad idea for a lot of reasons. She looked back at Harry on the sofa. His eyes were still closed and the lines of tension around his mouth had disappeared. Ginny wasn't sure he was entirely asleep, but she was happy to see him relaxed. They could stay in the Room of Requirement for as long as they needed for Harry to start feeling better, as long as Ron and Hermione were safe too.

As if sensing her thoughts, Ron's terrier suddenly dropped down in front of Ginny.

"Thanks Ginny. We're okay here for now. The old Horcruxes don't seem to have any magic left in them, so that's a good thing. Hermione's sending them to Bill anyway though." Ron's voice was entirely calm, and Ginny relaxed. They still needed a plan for figuring out where Voldemort was, or at least for getting out of the castle, but that could wait. Ron seemed to agree. "Let Harry rest," his Patronus said. The voice grew more cautious. "We have the Marauder's Map here, and we don't see . . . anyone of interest on it. That's a good thing, right? Hermione's going to try to add a charm to see if it will show . . . things that are less than fully human, if you get what I mean." Ron's voice faded away.

Ginny did get what Ron meant. For a second, she worried what would happen if Ron and Hermione were able to see Tom Riddle on the Map too; they'd come looking for Harry and Ginny for sure then. But Ginny couldn't worry about that – they hadn't even been able to see Voldemort yet. She looked around, thinking.

The room seemed mostly recovered from the Fiendfyre that had destroyed it during the final battle. A faint odor of smoke was all that was left; the walls and floor were bright and clean. When she and Harry had arrived, the space had been small, filled with only a sofa and cushy chair. But as Ginny walked, the Room stretched out lazily before her, new furniture appearing in cozy groupings and lamps lighting themselves on the wall. Cabinets and shelves arranged themselves rather haphazardly, filling themselves anew with what looked like the jetsam of a castle full of students. While it was not yet as crowded as the previous Room of Hidden Things had been, Ginny suspected it was only a matter of time. A few old brooms leaned against the back of a desk, and when she she wondered to herself how hard it might be to learn to create a Portkey, a book appeared on a low table. Ginny flipped through it for a minute or two, and then had an idea. She started to walk back towards where she could still just see the sofa and Harry's form, and then stopped. _Let him rest._

Ginny turned in a slow circle, trying to think about what she needed. She hadn't lived in the Room herself, those last weeks before the final battle, but she knew it had really outdone itself. You had to really be specific in your requests, Harry had told her, and to keep them as close to a single need at a time.

"So requiring a way to get the Horcrux out of Harry and simultaneously defeat Voldemort's probably a no-go then," Ginny muttered to herself. She sighed and nodded when nothing happened. "But it'll give me all the chamber pots I need, apparently." None appeared though, and Ginny gave a wry smile. She hated chamber pots. A moment later, stone archway appeared off to Ginny's left, a toilet and sink visible inside.

Ginny considered this. She hadn't actually thought about it, but she realized she did actually need to use the loo. Interesting.

Afterwards, she sat down on one of the new chairs and thought carefully. What they never seemed to have enough of was intelligent knowledge about Voldemort's plans. They had come to Hogwarts to figure out if the old Horcruxes still had any of Voldemort's soul in them, but more importantly, if Voldemort himself had been able to get to them first. But it sounded like Ron and Hermione had that issue sorted. Now they just had to figure out where Voldemort was. And Riddle. And how to destroy them. Ginny snorted softly to herself. _Just. _

Around her, the Room seemed to share her dark amusement; for a moment, she could have sworn she heard a soft chuckle floating across the air. Ginny shook her head. She was just hearing things. _Show some Gryffindor courage, Weasley! _she counseled herself. A shelf across from where she sat suddenly bloomed with what looked like old Quidditch trophies, and she got up to count them carefully, noting with satisfaction that there were more Gryffindor ones than anything else.

_See, it's just the Room, playing with you. It knows who you are, and it's showing you things you'd like to see. I could probably find my old cauldron from second year here somewhere. The one that I burned a hole through when I added too much thistlethorn to my stinging potion. Damn, Snape had been mad about that; he'd taken ten points from Gryffindor even though that Syltherin tosser Cadamus Little had actually melted his entire desk._

The ruined cauldron made her think again of all the ruined Horcruxes, and Ginny froze, a horrible thought flashing through her. _What if he __**had**__ gotten there first? What if the reason Hermione and Ron hadn't found any soul bits left in the Horcrux objects was because Voldemort had already extracted them? Extracted them and used them to resurrect his former, youthful self?_

Ginny had no idea if such a thing was possible, but if anyone could know the dark magic required, it would be Voldemort.

She didn't realize she'd kept walking in her panic, but when Ginny looked around, Harry on the sofa was no longer in sight. There still seemed to be only a single path back through the furniture, and Ginny could see the edge of the archway that led to the new bathroom, so she wasn't terribly concerned, but even so, she turned back.

They needed to learn even more about Dark Magic, and how to defeat it, that was for sure. Another book appeared promptly on a table and Ginny picked it up. Inside the front cover was a familiar bookplate and Ginny sighed; the book had come from the library at Grimmauld Place. Undoubtedly Hermione had either already poured over it or was planning to. Taking careful note of the title, Ginny put it back down and muttered a quick "thanks" into the air. After a few seconds, the book shimmered out of existence.

It was time to check on Harry. He would probably know better than she did how to use the Room to get the best help from it as possible. Hopefully he'd had enough rest and was feeling up to it. Ginny didn't like how each encounter with Voldemort seemed to make Harry weaker. He hadn't recovered nearly as quickly this time as when they'd realized Voldemort had been in Grimmauld Place or when they were in Amsterdam. Ginny didn't know if whatever hold Voldemort had on Harry was getting stronger, or if was because there were now two dark lords, but it made her uneasy. Suddenly, getting back to Harry felt much more important, and Ginny started walking faster.

No sooner had Ginny taken two steps than a new path appeared off to the right. It didn't look much different than the way Ginny had been headed; the seat cushions on the various chairs and sofas seemed to be more purple than red, but other than that, about the same. The walkway seemed to curve, as if it was going to end up back at Harry too, and Ginny thought it might be a good idea to follow it. The Room clearly seemed to know what she required even before she knew it herself, she reasoned. And if it didn't seem to be heading back towards the doorway, she could always turn around. Without stopping to think, she changed direction and began walking down the new path.

She was walking so quickly that she almost walked right by it at first, but then she stuttered to a stop and retraced a few steps. The side table looked the same as any of the dozen others scattered around the room: low, non-descript, made of light-colored wood. But instead of a lamp or the odd knick-knack, this table held a single wand.

Ginny stared at it. The wand was long and thin and looked vaguely familiar, although Ginny was certain it wasn't a wand that belonged to any of her friends or family. As she watched, she could have sworn the nearby lights flickered in the sides of her vision, but second later she shook her head and blinked a couple of times, clearing her sight. She bit her lip, trying to figure out what to do. There was no question in Ginny's mind that the wand wasn't just some forgotten thing left here by a long ago student. As a rule, wands just didn't get simply _lost_; it took some purposeful act to separate a wand from its master. While that act could be as simple as an Expelliarmus, like Harry had used against Voldemort in the graveyard his fourth year, it usually required a fairly strong bit of magic. Indeed, Harry's spell hadn't succeeded in taking Voldemort's wand from him, although the magic surrounding Harry's wand recognizing Voldemort's as its brother was not something Ginny completely understood.

Ruminating over, Ginny picked up the wand. She couldn't just leave it there, even long enough to go find Harry; it might not stay until she returned, and there was no doubt that the wand had appeared because the Room knew, somehow, that Ginny required it. It felt heavy in her hand and she gripped it tightly, but nothing else happened. After a minute, she put it inside her robes and kept walking. Better to wait until she could show it to Harry and the others before she tried to use it. Maybe it would be good for Harry, she thought. Ollivander had promised that the first new wand he'd make would be for him, but it would take time; the man's store and all its supplies had been destroyed by the Death Eaters. Harry had gotten much better using the wand Ron had taken from the snatchers, but Ginny knew he still wasn't very comfortable with it. Maybe this strange wand would be better.

Ginny had thought the pathway was curving around towards where Harry was, but now she wasn't so sure. It was still meandering in that general direction, but seemed to be taking longer than it should have, and Ginny wondered if the Room was expanding even as she moved through the space. She stopped, considering. Nothing felt dangerous, it was just the magic taking over. The Room had probably been waiting for someone to come get things started; Ginny doubted that it had been high on anyone's list of repairs for the castle. Still, it wouldn't do to get lost. Harry must be waking up soon, if he wasn't already. She needed to show him the wand, and then they could explore this space together, and ask it for help finding Voldemort.

_And Tom Riddle, _Ginny thought with a shudder. Maybe, if they asked it the right question, the Room could show them why or how Voldemort had somehow been able to resurrect his teenaged self. Then this trip to Hogwarts would have been worthwhile, to get the full idea of what they were up against. And Hermione could use the books more efficiently, and maybe, just maybe, Harry would have a chance.

Maybe it was the new wand that made Ginny feel so hopeful, but she turned confidently to the left, not at all surprised to see yet another pathway appear. This one led directly back to where she knew Harry was, just beyond the ever-growing stacks of furniture, statuary, and . . . a large painting, taller than Ginny herself, framed in gleaming gilt. It was off to Ginny's left as she walked by, but no, it wasn't. It was blocking her path, the empty canvas looming up before her.

Ginny moved to the right, and the frame seemed to shift too. Or did it grow? She backed up, and the painting shuffled closer.

_Shuffled?_

Ginny turned back towards the way she'd come, intending to leave this path, but more furniture had appeared and now blocked her way. It was probably just the Room continuing to grow and evolve, but it suddenly seemed to Ginny that instead of creating clear walkways between the junk, things were piling up everywhere, no way to get back. A noise made her whirl back towards the painting. The empty canvas undulated in its frame as if something had blown on it from behind. It was so close Ginny could almost reach out and touch it. She backed up, begging silently for an escape.

To her left, a slim passageway between two tottering bookshelves opened just wide enough that Ginny thought she might be able to slip through, but even as she turned towards the space, a movement at the edge of the painting made her freeze.

The canvas wavered again, and then, as naturally as if he was taking a casual stroll, Tom Riddle stepped into the frame. He looked right at her, a strange half-smile on his face before he spoke. "Hello, Ginny, I'd hoped to see you first."

Ginny's heart was in her throat. The painted Riddle was only slightly older than he'd been back in the Chamber. His Slytherin robes were perfectly pressed and his Head Boy badge gleamed as if it had just been polished that morning. Despite the fact that Ginny could clearly see the careful brush strokes that had created him, this Tom Riddle looked nearly as alive as the memory that had been made almost real by his attempted theft of her soul. He stared at her, eyes glittering with evil and something else that Ginny might have called greed. She didn't stop to think.

"Incendio!" she screamed, and a burst of white-hot flame shot out of her wand. For a long moment, it covered the portrait, and Ginny thought maybe that would be it. But then the flames died down, revealing Riddle's image still in its frame. Not even a hair on his head appeared singed, but he seemed amused.

"Ahh, tough little Ginny," he said. "I'd heard you'd become a lot feistier over the years. Too bad I had to get to know you when you were just a silly first year with your silly crush." Riddle looked around. "Where is he, anyway? Potter, I mean. I know you're together."

Riddle was twirling a wand – his yew wand, Ginny noticed. _But he's just a painting, he can't do magic. _She forced a deep breath.

"How did you get here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. Maybe the portrait couldn't do magic, but Ginny didn't trust for a second that it wasn't dangerous.

But Riddle just laughed. "You summoned me," he said. "When you were thinking about how this room might help you figure out what I . . . I mean, what my _real self_ is up to." He gave her something very close to a smirk. "All the head boys and girls used to have their portraits painted, didn't you know? Until that barmy old fool Dumbledore decided it wasn't wise to let mere students feel so important as to be immortalized that way." He shrugged. "Most of the old portraits were sent to family members, but of course, I have no family." Riddle's voice grew hard. "Dumbledore performed a spell so I couldn't move and couldn't speak. I was no better than a _Muggle_ painting." Riddle's lips twisted with disgust. "And he tucked me away in storage with other paintings not currently on the castle walls. I daresay I was meant to be freed earlier than this, but as you know, the last time I was here as an adult, there just wasn't enough time. And then, well, you know what happened . . . " Riddle's voice grew softer.

_The final battle. But how did Riddle know?_

As if sensing her thoughts, Riddle kept talking. "I found out only recently, of course. Lucky for me . . . for all of me . . . that Potter didn't realize what he'd become, back when he was a baby. If he'd meant to let me kill him, meant to die so that my soul inside him would die too, well then, I guess I wouldn't be here now, would I?" The painting leered. "But lucky for me, Harry threw himself in front of my curse only because he wanted to save you." Riddle made a derisive sound. "What a waste."

"It wasn't a waste." Ginny gripped her wand tightly. "You're the waste, and you . . . and whatever you've become . . . will soon go the way you should have when I tried to kill you the first whispered the spell, and watched in satisfaction as the entire painting rose into the air.

For a moment, Riddle looked surprised. "Wingardium Leviosa?" He quickly straightened his features. "What good is a first year spell like that?"

"Good enough to take you to people who'll know how to destroy you," said Ginny grimly. She maneuvered the painting around a sofa. "But not until you tell us everything you know about . . . well, about what you're up to." Her voice didn't sound nearly as menacing as Ginny wanted it to, and keeping the painting aloft was harder than she'd thought it would be. It didn't seem to want to go where she wished, and all the _stuff_ in the room was getting in the way. Truth was, she wasn't even sure she was walking in the right direction anymore. Her arm ached. _Was the painting getting heavier?_

"Oh, I don't think I can let that happen," said Riddle silkily. His wand moved so quickly that Ginny barely saw it, and a second later, the portrait crashed back to the ground. The frame cracked and the image of Riddle shimmered as he struggled to free himself from the magic that kept his painted image in place.

At least, that's what Ginny assumed he was doing. She only just ducked in time as a flash of light flew over her head. Riddle's spell hit a shelf full of tarnished silver cups and they clattered to the floor around Ginny, almost tripping her as she dodged out of the way.

"How . . . how are you . . . ?" she began. She sent a stunning spell back at Riddle and watched with satisfaction as he stumbled. But a second later, he straightened up, all amusement gone from his expression.

"I may not have a body," he said as he sent another spell at Ginny, "but I'm still more powerful than you'll ever be. I was quite . . . determined this morning, as you can see." Riddle's first spell had missed, but his second glanced off Ginny's arm, tearing open a gash in her sleeve and the skin underneath. She bit back a yelp of pain but didn't take her eyes off of Riddle. He seemed to be stuck, halfway in and halfway out of the portrait, his body not quite three dimensional, but solid enough that Ginny could hear his footsteps as he walked across the floor, the picture frame floating around him like a strange halo.

Desperate now, Ginny sent every spell she could think of at Riddle, only to watch them slow him for a moment before failing. _Body bind, Stupefy, Diffindo. _She even tried Expelliarmus, but Riddle's wand barely wavered in his grip. _Harry, where are you? _She thrust her hand into her robes to find her summoning coin. Surely Riddle's spells should have activated it by now; Ginny had no idea why no one had come.

Riddle's spells were getting stronger. He slashed his wand at Ginny's legs and she couldn't hold in her scream. Her knees buckled and she grabbed wildly at a bookshelf to keep herself from falling over. But it was no use. The shelf fell over and Ginny went with it, watching as Riddle glided closer, malice in his eyes. "You can't beat me, Ginny. You may as well give up. You bought yourself a few extra months, and I hope you enjoyed them, but now, it's time for you to die." He raised his wand.

Ginny was faster. The other wand still felt heavy, but the power that flowed through it was unmistakable. "Bombardo!" she screamed, and the frame holding up Riddle exploded into pieces. The canvas collapsed in a heap on the ground, Riddle's form visible underneath it. Ginny watched in horror as it shook and shivered as if something was fighting to get out. She tried to stand, but the pain in her legs was too great. Dizzily, she raised the strange wand again, watching as a painted hand, looking even more solid now, pushed its way out from under the canvas.

And then there was a heavy presence behind her. Another arm helped her hold up the wand and a hoarse voice spoke in her ear. "_Sectumsempra_," Harry whispered. "Say it."

They aimed together, but Ginny spoke the spell. Riddle's scream as the canvas tore into shreds was horrible, but also not. His hand melted before her eyes until it was just a puddle of oily paint, soaking into the floor of the Room. Harry muttered _Incendio, _and this time, the flames were true. Without a word, he pulled Ginny into his lap and held her. Silently, they watched the fire until only ash remained, and only when even those remnants had been absorbed into the floorboards did Harry speak.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice muffled into Ginny's back.

Ginny knew Harry wasn't apologizing for the fact that Ginny had been hurt. She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault," she said.

"It feels like my fault," said Harry quietly. He twisted Ginny in his lap and pulled away the torn bits of her clothing. "Where is it the worst?"

Ginny didn't try to dissuade him. "My legs, I think," she said. "He hit them both at the same time. And cut my arm, but that's not as bad."

Harry gently touched her forehead. "And here?"

Ginny raised her hand to her temple and felt the stickiness of blood. She hadn't even realized it was there. "A bookshelf, I think," she said.

Harry nodded, satisfied that it hadn't been a spell. He stood up and lifted Ginny into his arms, wavering for a second.

"You don't have to," she began, although she doubted she'd be able to walk."

"I'm fine," said Harry grimly. "As soon as the painting was gone, I felt fine again." He set her down on a nearby sofa and pushed up the bottom of her trousers. "Fuck."

Both of Ginny's legs were a solid mass of purple and red bruise, swollen and raw. They looked like they belonged to someone else. "What spell is that?" she asked. Now that the adrenaline was leaving her, her legs hurt even worse.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know," he said heavily. "Did you hear what Riddle said?"

"He didn't," said Ginny. "He was using non-verbal spells." She winced as Harry ran his hand gently over her knee. "But why could a painting cast spells anyway?"

"I'm sure that's something Voldemort did earlier, before we heard them talking. I have no idea what though. If there was an easy way to give portraits the ability to do magic, don't you think Dumbledore's painting would have told us?"

"Something dark for sure, then," said Ginny. "I don't want to know." She couldn't help but think of Amsterdam and the dead owls and that poor Muggle worker. "I hope no one else died," she said quietly.

Harry didn't answer. He was looking carefully at the new wand Ginny still clutched in her hand. She let go, and Harry gave a quiet gasp of surprise when he held it himself. "Where did you get this?"

"Here," said Ginny. "The Room gave it to me. It looks kind of familiar, but I'm not sure . . ."

"Do you remember what you were thinking?" Harry interrupted her, an odd gleam in his eye."

Ginny thought for a moment. "I'm not sure," she said hesitantly. "I'd been thinking generally about what we needed to figure out to be able to defeat Voldemort." She gave a soft chuckle. "I tried asking the Room how to destroy Voldemort and Riddle. It seemed to think that was funny, that I'd ask for something that big. It can't do that, can it?"

"Not exactly, no," said Harry. "But it gave you the Elder Wand, and it was powerful enough to destroy the painted Riddle. That's a pretty big thing for it to have done."

"The Elder Wand?" Ginny asked. "From that old Beadle the Bard book?" She shivered. "I never liked that story much; my favorite was about the witch with three heads she could take off and put on, depending on her mood."

Harry nodded. "It's the most powerful wand there is; it was Dumbledore's after he defeated Grindelwald." He grimaced. "And then Voldemort took it from his grave." He gave Ginny a gentle kiss on the temple. "It's the wand that killed me."

Ginny shuddered. "It . . . but how? Where has it been then? He can't have had it, all this time, right?"

Harry shook his head. "I hadn't really thought about it," he said. "When Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby, we think Pettigrew took his yew wand and kept it for him. Since he was using the Elder Wand this past year, he must have put that other wand somewhere else, since he assumed it wouldn't work against me." He shrugged. "After you defeated him, I don't know how the wand ended up here. It's a powerful magical object; maybe Ollivander would know." Harry kissed her again. "But it's brilliant that you found it. He fumbled at his neck and pulled out the small moleskin pouch that Ginny knew contained a few of Harry's important possessions. He carefully took out his old Holly wand, the two broken ends just barely still connected by Fawkes' tail feature. "Reparo," he said firmly, pointing the Elder wand.

The Holly wand instantly sealed itself together and Ginny felt Harry suck in a breath. "Please. . ." he mumbled. He picked up his old wand and swished it through the air, making a sound of delighted satisfaction when it shot red and then green sparks out of the end. He squeezed Ginny tightly. "I can't believe . . . I never thought I'd get my wand back," he said. "It's the only one I really trust."

Ginny knew how he felt. Her own wand was such a part of her, she couldn't imagine trying to do magic with someone else's, and the thought of how long Harry had been forced to protect himself with a strange wand made her shudder. "I'm so glad," she muttered into his chest.

He gave her back the Elder Wand. "You need to hold onto this," he said. "You don't need to use it, but the Room gave it to you, and we have to keep it safe."

Ginny nodded and tucked it back into her robes. "I'd rather use my old wand anyway," she said.

"Maybe we can figure out how to use the Elder Wand too," said Harry. He was twirling the Holly wand in his hand. "Let me try something." He touched the tip to Ginny's knee and said a healing spell.

The pain receded a bit and Ginny sighed. "That feels good," she said. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Last year," said Harry simply. Slowly, he moved his wand up and down Ginny's legs until the bruises were only a dull yellow color. "That's the best I can do, but you should be able to walk now."

Ginny nodded. "They feel much better." She sat up. "We need to find Ron and Hermione. I don't know why the coin didn't summon them. Wasn't it supposed to, if it detected a dark spell being used against one of us?" She frowned. "How did you know where I was?"

"I heard you," said Harry. "And I asked the Room to show me how to get to you as quickly as possible." He grimaced. "It started by showing me the path, but the closer I got, the worse I felt, and when I sat down to rest, the chair itself brought me the rest of the way. When I saw . . . saw you battling Riddle, the chair dumped me onto the floor behind you." He wrapped his arms around her again. "I almost didn't have enough strength to help you."

"But you did," said Ginny. "And now that you have your own wand back, maybe it will be easier to fight whatever it is about Voldemort that makes you weak."

"Maybe," said Harry. He sounded doubtful. "We need to talk to Ron and Hermione now," he said. "How did you contact them before?"

"Patronus," Ginny said. "I don't know if Voldemort can intercept them though."

Harry stood up. "I think we should just go straight back to the Headmaster's office and talk to them there," he said. "This is too hard to explain except in person." He reached down. "Can you walk?"

Ginny could, leaning against Harry. "It's not far," he said. "Not my way." He closed his eyes for a second and a new door appeared against the wall. "That should take us directly there," he said.

"Brilliant," smiled Ginny.

Harry gave her a more lingering kiss. "I have my moments," he said with a grin.

A/N 2: I know I promised a few of you that I'd end this chapter in a different place, but honestly, I want to do the next scene justice, and I wanted to get this posted before another week goes by. It's coming soon, I swear.


	13. Thirteen

A/N: This is really the second half of the chapter I posted yesterday. I just wasn't sure when I'd get a chance to write it, but it wouldn't leave me alone, so here you go. This is for a few, specific people: you know who you are. And yes, I agree that it's been way too long since I've written a sexy scene. I hope this made up for the delay.

The Room of Requirement didn't disappoint; the door Harry asked for took him and Ginny directly to the entrance to the Headmaster's office. Ginny was still leaning against him as she walked and he was glad they hadn't had to travel far.

But the room was disconcertingly empty. Indeed, there was no sign that Ron and Hermione had been there at all: the Horcruxes were gone, the secret hiding place behind Dumbledore's portrait was sealed up, and all of the former headmasters dozed convincingly in their frames.

Harry pulled out his wand and saw that Ginny too was gripping hers, pointing it from corner to corner. "What could have happened?" she asked, voice low.

"They are okay, but are you? I daresay you both look worse than when you left here." Dumbledore's voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of curiosity in his question.

Harry wasn't sure how to answer that question, and he was too distracted by the absence of the others to form a coherent explanation. _They wouldn't have just left._

Ginny's thoughts obviously followed his. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" she asked sharply. Harry helped her into a chair near Dumbledore's portrait and she flashed him a grateful smile. He started to move away and she grabbed his hand, holding him in place behind her. He squeezed her shoulder and she leaned into his side.

Dumbledore's tone remained serene. "At Grimmauld Place, I suspect. They were here, consulting that wonderful Map of yours, when something happened. Something with a coin? Or coins? They knew something was wrong, but they couldn't get to you. They Floo'd off to try to find help."

"The coins were supposed to bring them to us, in the Room of Requirement," said Ginny. "They knew we were there. If the coins didn't work, I wonder why they didn't just walk on their own?" She frowned at Harry. "We need to figure out a better way to stay connected. That's twice now we've had trouble finding each other when there's been trouble."

"The magic in the Room of Requirement interfered, I suspect," said Dumbledore. "And as you know, Harry, my hunches are usually correct."

Harry snorted. "That's true, sir."

"And this was a particularly large bit of magic there," said Ginny. Harry thought she sounded calmer now that they had an answer that blamed something other than their failure in creating the coins. "The Room was growing around us, rapidly. It seemed to be able to predict what I needed before I was fully aware myself." She made a convulsive movement towards her waist and then stopped.

"It's okay, you can show him," said Harry. Ginny nodded and pulled out the Elder Wand.

"It gave me this," she said. "I didn't know what it was until Harry told me."

Dumbledore leaned so far forward in his frame that Harry wondered if it was possible for him to tumble out. "Is that. . . my word. That _is _unexpected." He looked at them both. "And you say the Room gave it to you?"

Ginny nodded. "I'd been talking about whether the Room could give us something as big as a way to defeat Voldemort and Riddle. And then the wand just appeared on a . . ."

"What do you mean, 'and Riddle?'" Dumbledore interrupted. Around the room, Harry saw the other portraits listening intently.

"Well, he was there too, sort of," said Ginny. "His portrait, I mean. The one from when he was Head Boy?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I put a dis-animation spell on it years ago," he said. "I take it Voldemort found a way to lift it, even in his present state?"

"We heard them talking to each other, but didn't understand what it was," said Harry. "I got very sick and Ginny got me to the Room to rest. She was amazing, actually." Next to him, Ginny made an impatient sound. "You were," he said.

"Thank you, Harry, but I don't think that's the important bit right now," she said with a touch of amusement. She turned back to Dumbledore. "I was talking out loud, wondering if the Room could tell us how we'd heard Voldemort and Riddle talking to each other. And the portrait appeared and started . . . attacking me."

"Impossible!" a voice from across the room spoke up. There was increased muttering from a number of the painted figures. "Once we are reduced to the partial-sentience of a painting, we can no longer perform magic, even if we're painted holding our wand." The former headmaster in question waved his own around the inside of his frame. "See?"

"That's what I thought too," said Ginny heavily. "But Voldemort got to the portrait of himself and figured out how to give him more power, somehow. He almost got out."

"But Ginny kept him contained," broke in Harry.

"Until Harry was able to get there and help me finish him off," said Ginny. "He helped me use the Elder Wand. I guess the Room really did know what I needed."

The muttering in the office grew louder. "Are you sure the portrait is gone? They can be damaged pretty badly without destroying the essence of the individual depicted therein." Armando Dippet spoke from his spot low on the wall.

"I'm sure," said Harry. "We burned it down to ashes."

Several other voices didn't agree.

"Still, if Voldemort was able to give the portrait so much power, he may have given it the ability to regenerate too."

"And what if there are more portraits of him, that we don't know about?"

"We should go check all the storage spaces, make sure Riddle isn't roaming the castle."

"It's our duty as former headmasters of Hogwarts!"

"Off then, to search the castle!"

Still chattering, and completely ignoring Harry and Ginny, all of the headmasters left their portraits until only Dumbledore remained. He looked at them gravely.

"I don't know that all the others realize it, but it's rather more concerning than they realize that Voldemort was able to give so much life to his portrait." Dumbledore sighed again. "I need to go search the castle."

Something in the man's voice told Harry that Dumbledore already knew what - or who - he was looking for. Rather wishing he didn't have to ask, he reached down to grip Ginny's hand. "Sir?"

"Filch didn't leave," said Dumbledore tersely. "Refused to leave the castle unguarded. He would have been perfect for Voldemort's . . . needs."

Harry felt Ginny tremble. "What kind of needs?" she asked, the horror in her voice evident. Harry understood. It didn't matter that he'd never been particularly fond of the man; his devotion to the castle was legendary. _Could he have given up that loyalty to help Voldemort? _Maybe it was how physically ill being around Voldemort made him, or maybe it was Harry's sick certainty that one of these days, the name someone spoke as having been induced - or forced - to Voldemort's side would be someone he loved, but not for the first time, Harry felt the monumentality of their task. A thought – one he'd been trying to suppress – flitted through his head and once again, he pushed it away. _Stay positive. Not yet._

Ginny couldn't know all his distress, but when she shakily stood up and snaked an arm around his waist, Harry leaned into her. "Thanks," he muttered.

"I know," she said back. She turned to Dumbledore. "But wasn't Filch a Squib? How could Voldemort have used him?"

Dumbledore frowned. "I'm not sure," he said. He slowly took off his spectacles and rubbed at his painted eyes. "But that's right, isn't it? He may have found someone else." The man stood up. "I'll need to check to make sure there isn't anyone else too." He started to walk out of his frame and then leaned his head back in. "Stay here, please, until I return. "I may have questions for you. I'll send Ron and Hermione a message that you're safe. And you are; this office is warded quite specifically against intrusion. You will not be bothered here."

And then he was gone. Harry looked down at Ginny. "Well, that was, umm. Yeah." He had no idea what to say.

Ginny snuggled against him. "I know," she said again. "It's just . . . a lot to think about."

Harry nodded. "That's an understatement," he said. He knew that Ginny didn't mean they needed to hink about it, or talk about it right then.

He looked around. "I don't ever think I've heard it so quiet in here."

" I never knew how noisy paintings could be," she said. "Do you think they'll find another one?"

Harry didn't have to ask what she meant. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I can't imagine he'd have another painting, but . . ."

"But nothing would surprise me anymore," Ginny said. "Or maybe, it's everything that's surprising me? Poor Filch."

Harry wasn't surprised where her thoughts had gone. "I feel guilty even thinking that I'm glad it wasn't Ron or Hermione or one of the students," he said. "But I do. And that's terrible. Filch shouldn't have had to . . . do whatever Voldemort made him do either."

"It's all terrible," Ginny agreed. She stumbled suddenly and Harry felt her tremble against him. "Can you help me sit down?" she asked. "My legs are hurting again."

"I don't think my spell was good enough," said Harry. "Let me see if I can fix it." Instead of leading Ginny back to her chair, he walked them the few extra steps to the wide headmaster's desk and carefully lifted her up. "Scoot back a little so I can see your legs stretched out," he said. He pushed her trouser bottoms up to below her knees and frowned. "The bruising isn't as bad as it was right after, but it's come back a bit." He put his hand on her knee. "And does the pain go up higher?"

Ginny winced. "I think so," she said, and Harry could hear the pain in her voice. "I didn't notice it as much until you healed the bottom, but yeah, it hurts up to my hips."

"I'm going to use the Elder Wand this time," said Harry. "Maybe it will last until we can get you to a Healer."

Ginny handed it over and then gingerly wiggled out of the track bottoms she wore. Harry hissed at the bruises that marched up to the top of her thighs, relieved at least to see that they weren't as dark as the ones lower down. He suspected that Ginny had been in more pain that she'd let on, but she'd hid it well. Which was exactly what he did, of course. He hated showing the weakness caused by Voldemort being close by, and vowed to tried harder not to let him affect him next time.

Harry leaned very close to Ginny's legs this time. Slowly and deliberately, he began brushing his hands over small patches of her skin, touching it lightly with the Elder Wand before whispering the healing spell. Ginny was propped up on her elbows, watching him while he worked, and the first few times, she jerked a bit under his hands. As as the bruises faded, she seemed to relax more and more, bending her knees and opening her legs so that he could reach each part. Harry was pleased to see the bruises disappearing much more completely than the first time he'd tried to heal them, although that also began to pose a problem. Ginny's skin was smooth under his palm and more and more, Harry found himself resting his hands on her legs for longer than was really necessary for the spell to work. Ginny shifted against him and gradually, Harry found his thoughts moving away from enchanted paintings and evil dark wizards and more towards the way Ginny's breathing quickened when his hands ventured higher, brushing up one thigh and then across her middle before traveling down the other. _It had been so long since he'd touched her like this._

"Harry." Ginny's voice was languid.

Harry looked up from between her legs. At some point, she'd stopped sitting up to watch him and was now lying down flat on the desk, only her lower legs dangling over the edge.

Harry slowly stood up, not taking his hands off Ginny's skin. "Am I hurting you?"

Ginny shook her head. "Not at all, she said in the same sleepy voice. "But . . ." She wiggled under his hands and opened her eyes.

"But what, Ginny?" Harry had been trying to avoid his own growing feeling of arousal so that he could properly tend to Ginny's injuries, but seeing her sprawled out like that was rapidly eroding his control. He took a step forward until his erection brushed the edge of the desk and leaned over, running one hand down her cheek. "What do you need?"

Ginny's hand moved restlessly at the collar of her shirt, and Harry remembered Ginny saying that one of the spells had cut her arm. "This needs to come off," she mumbled, fumbling with the ripped fabric.

Harry slid his arm underneath Ginny's back and helped her sit all the way up before unbuttoning the rest of her shirt and pulling it away. The gash on her arm wasn't deep, but it was long, stretching almost from shoulder to elbow. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, and after Harry traced the cut with the Elder Wand and watched Ginny's skin knit back together, he followed the path of the fading scar with his lips, finally kissing her palm and then moving her hand to rest deliberately on his hip. Ginny made a contented sound and leaned into him, wrapping her legs around his waist so that he couldn't help but take another step forward so that his erection brushed against her.

"This desk is the perfect height," she said happily, and Harry felt a jolt of heat in his groin.

"He. . . here?" he asked shakily. Over the years he'd had many experiences in this office, most of them various stages of unpleasant. If he stopped to admit it to himself, Harry thought that having sex here sounded rather brilliant, actually. And a second later, he told Ginny so.

Her answering smile was radiant. "But you're wearing too many clothes," she said. She grabbed at the bottom of his jumper and helped him pull it over his head. His t-shirt followed, and then Harry just had to wrap his arms around Ginny and pull her close. The lace from her bra tickled his chest but he didn't care. They stayed like that, swaying slightly, until both of their breathing slowed, chests rising and falling against each other in tandem. From where Ginny sat, Harry didn't have to dip his head far to reach her neck, and he began trailing kisses along her collarbone, she slipped her fingers inside the waistband of his jeans, and then inside his boxers to stroke against his hips.

Harry made a low sound against Ginny's skin and his breathing sped up again. He slid his hands under her bum and pressed her against him, not even caring for the moment that Ginny hadn't yet managed to open his fly and get him as unclothed as she was. He finally took a small step backwards so that she could reach him properly, and then he just had to stare.

Ginny was intent on her task, biting her lower lip while she carefully undid button and zip. She pushed Harry's jeans down as far as she could from her spot on the desk, and then Harry helped out, roughly pulling them all the way of and giving her a mock glare when he almost lost his balance and she giggled.

"Careful, or I'll have to grab you there to keep you from falling over," she said, nodding at his erection, which was now pointing right at her through the flap in Harry's pants. She raised her eyebrows, but there was no mistaking the flush that rose on her cheeks or the way her breath had quickened when Harry had slipped a finger inside her bra and brushed across her breast.

"I don't think I'd mind that too much," said Harry honestly. He loved seeing Ginny like this, teasing and happy and aroused. It didn't feel like they were trying too hard to ignore everything else – they were, of course – but this moment didn't feel any less real or private or _right_ than it would have otherwise. Harry's physical and emotional need for Ginny was apart from all that, he knew. And hers was for him too. He might not go so far to say that he wouldn't have been able to function so well elsewhere, without being able to be with Ginny like this, but when her hands traveled lower inside his boxers and gripped him firmly, Harry forgot about having to function much at all.

He thrust against her, moving his hands from her bum to the lacy edge of her knickers so he could pull them off. His own underwear followed and Ginny wiggled herself to the very edge of the desk. "I'll try not to slip off," she said with a grin, wrapping both arms and legs around Harry so tightly that he thought if he were to back away, Ginny would easily come with him.

"I'll catch you," he promised. "You aren't getting away."

He took Ginny's hips in his hands and lifted her just a little bit, positioning her so that he could slide inside her with relief. As soon as he felt completely surrounded, Harry realized something. He groaned.

"Wait," he said suddenly. He knew he should probably pull back out, but he just couldn't make himself do so. "I didn't take care of you first." He made a tiny movement backwards, trying to show Ginny that _yes, he'd stop until he'd touched her first, _but she was having nothing of it.

"I'm already wet, Harry. Don't you dare move, other than to continue whatever you were about to do." Ginny's voice was fierce and Harry knew she wasn't just posturing for his sake. He pushed back into her, grunting her name as he did so. "I love you," he panted against her neck.

Ginny leaned back enough to capture Harry's face in her hands. "And I love you," she said fervently. She kissed him hard on the mouth and then slid her hand to the back of his head before opening her lips and prizing his open against her tonuge.

Harry kissed her back, getting lost enough to be able to ignore – briefly – what was going on down below. But eventually he noticed that Ginny's rhythm in kissing him was matching the way she thrust herself up and down on him, her hands on his shoulders for balance. Her tongue, in and out; her body, up and down. She pushed down around him more firmly and then froze, trembling, their bodies nearly flush against each other and her legs still around Harry's waist.

"Stay there," she said in a shaky voice. "Something about this position, it's . . . yeah. Just. Stay. There."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from thrusting. Ginny was making soft, concentrated sounds as she pulsed against him with tiny movements. Harry forced himself still until he could actually feel her contracting around his penis. "Did you just . . .?" he began.

"Not yet," said Ginny breathlessly. "Hold on." She pushed herself up so that Harry was almost completely outside of her and the pushed back down, hard. One hand disappeared from around his neck and found the spot where their bodies connected. Harry wasn't sure if Ginny meant to touch herself or was positioning him, but a moment later, the pressure around him got stronger and she cried out, squeezing her legs so tightly that it was almost painful, but not.

"Now . . . I did," said Ginny, panting against his neck. "It's your turn."

Harry didn't have to be told twice. With quick movements, he lifted Ginny's bum again and thrust in and out so firmly that his knees slapped against the side of the desk. It didn't matter. With a final thrust and a groan, Harry came hard, falling against Ginny so that she had no choice but to lie back on the desk. He climbed up too and lay down on top of her as he came back to himself, feeling their hearts beat against each other.

Ginny slowly unclamped her legs from around him and let them fall to either side of his waist.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked when he could speak again.

"No, but the desk is kind of hard against my bum," said Ginny. Slowly, Harry pulled out of her and helped her up until they were sitting side by side on the desk.

"I didn't even take off your bra," he said with a chuckle. "I was too eager."

"That you were, for sure. And we thank you for it."

The voice was strange and Harry whipped around towards the wall as Ginny gave a soft cry and dove for her knickers.

Five former headmasters – although thankfully, not Dumbledore – were sitting in their frames, looking down on them with expressions that Harry could only describe as avidly lecherous. He grabbed the Elder Wand and put up a quick privacy ward while he and Ginny pulled on their clothes, staring each other with wide eyes.

"How long do you think they were watching?" she whispered.

"Long enough to see most of the good stuff," someone called. "Your boyfriend's got quite the technique. Reminds me of me, back in the day. Those witches always screamed my name too."

"The rest of the lot were rather scandalized," said a different voice. "Hiding in the corridor they are, until you've finished."

"We've finished, thank you very much," said Harry tersely. He took down the ward. "You couldn't have left too?" he asked, glaring from face to face. None of them seemed particularly contrite.

"Hell no, " said one ancient wizard. "Best thing I've seen in nigh 300 years.

"Oh god," muttered Ginny. "Is it possible to Obliviate a painting?"

"I don't know," said Harry back. "But I'm sure going to try."


	14. Fourteen

A/N: And, this story is back! I apologize to the three of you still reading for the extended delay - I discovered that trying to write this and Reversing Course at the same time was just too difficult. I think I'm glad for the break though, because I was able to rework the end of the plot in a way that I think works better that my original plan. I'll admit, I had to quickly reread the story to get myself caught up with the action, and I apologize to anyone who doesn't remember what's going on. To recap: The trio didn't get to Snape before he died, so Harry didn't know he was a Horcrux and didn't sacrifice himself in the Forest. He threw himself in front of Voldemort's Killing Curse to save Ginny and ended up in King's Cross, but the action did not succeed in ridding him of the Horcrux because it wasn't a purposeful (as opposed to instinctive) act. Ginny killed Voldemort just as Harry returned from King's Cross; he was able to return because Voldemort having Harry's blood "tethered" Harry to life. So now Voldemort is a half-life kept alive only because of the Horcrux in Harry and everyone is trying to figure out how to get it out without killing Harry in the process. So far there have been a lot of failures. If that doesn't all make sense, you may need to start from the beginning again. But I promise there will be no more delays. This chapter is mostly a bridge; there will be more action very soon.

Despite the embarrassment of getting caught shagging his girlfriend on the Headmaster's desk by a bunch of portraits, Harry was later very glad he and Ginny had had those moments together. They hadn't even finished buttoning and zipping before a Patronus from Bill had them heading back to the Burrow. The Burrow, and not Grimmauld Place, which made Harry feel faintly relieved. An unexpected crowd waited there. Not only were Hermione and Weasleys scattered around the long table in the yard, but the number of curse breakers, healers and Aurors that had been helping seemed to have multiplied. Everyone was talking in groups of three and fours but the conversations skidded to a stop when Harry and Ginny walked up from the Apparition point.

Harry wanted to be the first to speak, to put everyone's mind at ease somehow, but his brain wouldn't work quickly enough. There was nothing he could say to take away the worry anyway.

Ron jumped up instead. "Harry, Ginny," he said, his voice overly hearty. "You made it." The obviousness of the statement only highlighted the discomfort, but Harry took the bait anyway. He nodded.

"We did," he said. "As soon as we got Bill's Patronus. Briefly it occurred to him to thank Merlin that Ginny's oldest brother hadn't summoned them ten minutes earlier. Truly, Harry wasn't sure what he would have done, but he suspected it would have involved Apparating half-naked. He nodded at the familiar faces around the table, and grimaced at the sight of two unfamiliar healers, sitting next to a mild-looking woman in robes that identified her as a member of the Department of Mysteries. Bill saw where he was looking.

"It's not what you think, Harry, they aren't here stick you in a bed and make you stay there for your health." He smiled in recognition of Harry's well-known distaste for hospitals and gestured down the table. "We're trying to figure out why you have a physical reaction to You Know Who's presence and if there is a way to prevent it."

Harry nodded. He didn't really want to discuss his health in front of the entire group and was relieved when Molly conjured two chairs at the end of the table and motioned for Harry and Ginny to sit. "That can wait until after everyone eats, Bill," she said crisply. I'm sure you all have a lot to discuss and it shouldn't happen on an empty stomach." She smiled at Harry. "I made treacle tart."

Harry smiled back, hoping it looked genuine. His appetite was almost non-existent at the moment. Still, he didn't want to deprive Molly of the belief that something as simple as his favorite dessert could make Harry feel better. Under the table, Ginny squeezed his thigh in understanding.

"I wouldn't mind strawberry shortcake, mum," she said. "If you're making special desserts."

"You have a birthday coming up, dear," Molly replied. "I'll keep that in mind." She turned to Harry. "You too, Harry. Would you like another tart or should I make a cake?"

Harry startled. His upcoming 18th birthday had been far from his mind. He scrambled for the date - was it already early July? The days since the battle at Hogwarts melted into one another punctuated by events but not dates - two trips to Hogwarts, Amsterdam, the graveyard, searching for Merope's burial site, discoveries in the library at Grimmauld Place. It was similar to how he'd felt on the Horcrux hunt, but then each step had brought them closer to what they'd thought was a defined end and the changing seasons had at least given a hint of time passing. Now even the moments of intense action and fear felt like flying into the wind, which wasn't surprising, given that they didn't even know exactly what their goal was. _Get the Horcrux out of Harry without killing him and destroy Voldemort at the same time_ might be everyone's aim, but right now it felt like they were as far away from understanding how to do that as they had on May 2.

They hadn't even had the change of seasons to mark the passage of time. The lazy hot days that spread out on either side of their search for Voldemort all had a sameness that could have been anytime during the summer. In some ways, it was unbelievable that so little time had passed since that battle at Hogwarts. Other days, the sameness of the nightmare Harry had been living since he was eleven just punctuated the fact that years had passed with no resolution. He was getting maudlin, a fact he realized when Ginny squeezed his thigh again.

"Harry? What do you think?" Treacle tart or cake? Or Ron wouldn't mind both, I bet." Her words were light but Harry could hear the undercurrent of concern. He pushed aside the last - and worst - of his thoughts, the ones he couldn't let even Ginny see, and focused on her mother.

"Umm, a cake would be great, thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he said. Ginny squeezed his leg again and Harry wondered if he'd accidentally given something away. Then she leaned in closer.

"I'll be of age two weeks later," she said in an undertone. "That will make a difference when we do . . . things." Her voice held an air of suggestion and Harry flicked his eyes at her.

"What kind of difference?" he asked, curiosity taking over. He'd never heard that turning 17 mattered when it came to physical . . . things, as Ginny put it.

Ginny merely raised her eyebrows. "You'll have to wait until then and see," she said pointedly. The implication was clear and Harry wondered for a wild moment if Ginny had somehow learned Leglimency. He tried to further empty his mind.

"I . . . I'll look forward to that," he said. It wasn't a lie, at least.

Ginny nodded. "Good. I'll make it worth the wait," she said.

Bill stood up at the other end of the table and everyone grew quiet. Harry sighed and Bill gave him a small smile "I'm sorry to have to do this, but we need to hear exactly what happened at Hogwarts. I understand that You Know Who was in the castle; did you see him? Could you tell what kind of power he had? Ron said you escaped from him in the Room of Requirement; what else happened?" Bills questions came quickly and Harry couldn't help but wince. He realized that not even Ron and Hermione knew what had happened after they'd separated. The portrait attacking Ginny while Harry barely had the strength to stand had been the worst of it, but there were more things to worry about too. He swallowed hard.

A temporary reprieve came in the form of Molly, who stood up herself and faced her eldest son. "Bill, if you are going to interrogate Harry, let's clear the table first and head inside. I suspect this discussion will require a bit of Firewhiskey and Arthur just bought several excellent bottles."

Amid the murmurs of appreciation around the table, Harry couldn't help but reflect on the fact that before this year, Molly would never have been the one to offer drinks to her family. It was a small thing, but yet another unexpected reminder of what had changed and that Harry couldn't escape even when talking about something as innocuous as having a drink. He stood up with everyone else and began helping levitate dishes and platters and chairs into the house.

Ron was suddenly beside him and Ginny. "Oi, Harry, isn't that your old wand? How'd you fix it?" Hermione looked up from where she was floating a vase of flowers and peered at Harry's wand too.

Harry looked swiftly around. Fortunately, no one else seemed to have heard Ron's question. "Shhh," he hushed them. "I'll explain later." The Elder Wand was currently tucked into Harry's moleskin pouch and until now, only he and Ginny had known about it. He wasn't sure why, but it felt important to keep the wand's existence secret for a little while longer. Only Ron and Hermione were likely to have noticed that Harry hadn't been using his own wand this entire time, let alone that it had been broken and repaired, and it was a testament to their long friendship that they didn't question him now.

Once everyone was settled in the now-crowded living room and fortified with Arthur's Firewhiskey (which, Harry had to admit, went down smoother even than Ogden's), Bill began his questioning again.

"Ron and Hermione told us that You Know Who was at Hogwarts, and that you sent them a message that you'd found him," Bill said bluntly. "But that's all we know."

Harry glanced at Ginny. He wished the two of them could have talked to Ron and Hermione alone first, before sharing their story with a group of people that included both Ginny's parents and a bunch of people he didn't even know. He trusted Bill's judgment, but Harry was also used to keeping things close to his chest, especially before he'd had the opportunity to digest everything that had happened. It _wasn't_ like Dumbledore, he told himself, and not for the first time. He knew he had to share his information, and that doing so would likely help him share his burden as well. But like with the Elder Wand, there may be details that were best held back, at least at first, and it made Harry slightly anxious not to have a firm grasp on what those details may be. He couldn't very well tell the group that the reason he hadn't stopped to think more about what he and Ginny had seen in the Room of Requirement was because they'd decided to have a shag instead

Although, it actually didn't matter, Harry realized. More of this story was Ginny's than his; he'd been nearly unconscious for big parts. He briefly considered trying to suggest what she should maybe keep to herself and just as quickly abandoned the idea. Ginny could say whatever she wanted.

Harry hadn't completely understood just how explosive their story was until Ginny began talking, and the more she spoke, the more his anxiety about what she'd done for him grew.

"You Know Who was in the castle," she said without preamble. "But he wasn't alone; he'd done a spell on his old Head Boy portrait and used that to attack me and Harry in the Room of Requirement. Tom Riddle nearly climbed out of the frame and got us." Amidst the murmurs of shock around them, Ginny took Harry's hand. She made it seem like she was seeking comfort from him, but Harry knew better. Just hearing about the attack again made his head begin to swirl.

"Did you see You Know Who as well?" The woman from the Department of Mysteries leaned forward.

Harry shook his head. "We heard the two of them talking, but only saw Tom Riddle in the portrait.

"I'd been thinking I needed a way to figure out what You Know Who was up to," said Ginny. She refrained from mentioning finding the Elder Wand and also that Harry had been nearly incapacitated most of the time. She described how she and Harry together had destroyed the painting and Harry explained that he'd felt better nearly immediately after.

There was beat of silence while everyone absorbed the implications of what Ginny and Harry had said, and then a number of quiet conversations began around the room. Harry could tell that the curse breakers and healers and Aurors were already considering how to add the information to their own theories about what everything meant and what needed to be done next. But despite his trust that these were the best of the best in their fields, Harry harbored no unrealistic expectation that they would now suddenly be able to come up with a solution. At best, there would be new questions and plans which may or may not work. Harry ignored all them for the moment.

Ron's expression was devastated and even Hermione looked caught between the desire to try to figure out how to incorporate this new knowledge into her list and giving into the emotional impact of what had happened. Harry understood, and got up from the loveseat to walk over to Ron. He didn't need to look to know that the slight movement behind him was Ginny, who'd followed, and now slid her arm around his waist.

Ron was shaking his head and muttering almost to himself. "We shouldn't have separated," he said. He looked up at Harry. "I should have known better than to leave you. I _do_ know better." He spoke softly; Harry didn't think anyone else could hear, even if they'd been paying attention. Harry didn't mince words.

"It's not the same, and you know it," he said. "What choice did we have?"

Ron shook his head. "The Horcruxes would have waited; we should have gone with you as soon as that portrait told us Riddle was in the castle."

Harry sighed. "You're probably right," he said after a moment. Ron looked at him in surprise and Harry shrugged. "I didn't think enough about it at the time; splitting up seemed to make the most sense." He motioned Ron over and sat heavily on the sofa, pulling Ginny onto his lap with him. "It's my fault though, not yours. I thought I could handle it if V-he got close to me, and I couldn't. And because of that, Ginny got hurt." He shuddered. "And it could have been so much worse."

Ron stared at Harry for a long moment; Ginny had glossed over the part of the story where she'd been alone to fight Tom Riddle while Harry was too weak to move, but Harry couldn't let his own failures go unmentioned. "I wish you'd been there - you and Hermione. If I'd let myself admit my weakness, things might have gone differently." He twisted to look at Ginny. "Not that you weren't absolutely brilliant," he said.

Ginny leaned forward and kissed him. "That's not going to stop you from feeling incredibly guilty though, will it?" she asked gently. Harry imagined she still smelled faintly of their recent coupling and he put his forehead against hers, breathing in deeply and ignoring her question. Ginny moved her hand up to his cheek and they stayed like that for a long moment until Ron cleared his throat. Harry reluctantly leaned back and looked around the room. Everyone was still talking in small groups, but he kept intercepting glances that told him there was more talking to be done. Sighing, he straightened up and nodded at Bill, asking him to take charge of the conversation. Truth be told, there was more than a little relief in letting someone else take charge for a while.

HPHPHPHPHP

The discussions ran very late, and Harry slept at the Burrow that night, in Ron's room. By unspoken agreement, no one changed rooms for once; he suspected the others were as exhausted as he was. The next morning, Harry woke up early and Apparated alone to Grimmauld Place. He felt guilty even admitting he needed some time away from Ginny and Ron and Hermione, but he thought some private time to reflect was a good idea, at least until he actually arrived at his house. The kitchen was as clean as ever but unnaturally quiet, and Harry realized that he'd not been there alone before. He took a butterbeer out of the icebox and walked slowly up to the library, on alert for the first sign of weakness. But he felt fine the entire way and sunk onto one of the sofas with a sigh, flicking his wand at the fireplace to light it. He watched the flames aimlessly for a while, thinking about some of what he'd learned the night before.

The healers were in agreement that Harry being the final Horcrux was likely the reason he got so sick when Voldemort was nearby; they didn't have any ideas about how to treat the problem though. And the curse breakers believed that being so dependent on Harry for life had made Voldemort was both weaker and stronger. They were concerned about his ability to perform magic beyond what should have been possible, and Harry and Ginny had answered what felt like hundreds of questions about how the cursed portrait of Tom Riddle had moved, whether he'd used a wand, and, most importantly, where Voldemort himself had been during the encounter. That Harry had gotten so sick suggested he was close, but Harry's rapid recovery as the portrait burned meant that he'd not stayed around.

"Too much to hope that he burned along with the painting," Ginny had said hopefully to the Unspeakable, and the woman had just shaken her head.

And now, only now that he was alone, did Harry allow his thoughts to go to the place he'd promised Ginny he wouldn't. For the harder everyone worked and the more everyone researched and studied and thought, the more Harry became convinced that there was but one way out. Dumbledore, for all his brilliance, hadn't conceived that Harry might need a second chance, and so it wasn't surprising that no one had been able to come up with one. The very fact of his knowing now, that he was a Horcrux, destroyed the apparent spontaneity required for getting it out of his body without killing him in the process.

And therefore, it was going to have to kill him in the process.

It was almost a relief, knowing. Harry carefully avoided thinking about Ginny and everyone else and instead concentrated on the inevitability of the thing. There was no other option, and waiting around to try to find a solution that wouldn't come would only increase the chance that Voldemort would find a way to come back. He'd figure out a way to do that, Harry was certain, if he hadn't already.

Harry sunk back into the cushions of the sofa. He'd need to get his emotions in check and his story straight before he saw Ginny again. She couldn't know his plans; Harry harbored no illusion that he could ever get Ginny to agree that his was the only possible solution. It would be . . .

"Master Harry, what a surprise! I did not expect you here today, Is Miss Weasley with you?" Kreacher's breezy voice broke into Harry's thoughts and he twisted on the sofa to say hello.

"It's just me, Kreacher, I needed a quiet place to think. Do you need me to go elsewhere?" Privately, Harry was glad Hermione wasn't with him to comment on how hard Kreacher must be working, going back and forth between Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts, helping with the cleanup. It was an issue she'd never quite been able to abandon and Harry was sure she'd frown now at the fact that the house-elf had clearly been working all day at the castle before starting to work here. The towel around his waist was stained and even as he bowed low to Harry, Kreacher gave an enormous yawn.

"I'm sorry, Master Harry, for my rudeness," Kreacher said immediately. He may not have been as prone to self-flagellation as Dobby had been, but Kreacher nevertheless looked rather mortified at his transgression.

Harry waved him off. "You've nothing to apologize for," he said firmly. "In fact, whatever you were planning to do in here to clean, I'd like you to ignore. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow. Tonight, you should rest. Polish your trinkets if you want."

Kreacher looked torn, and Harry smiled to himself at the elf's obvious conflict at wanting to serve Harry and a chance to spend time with Regulus Black's locket. He glanced around the room again. "But it needs to be comfortable here for Miss Weasley, doesn't it?" he asked coyly. "Won't Miss Weasley be wanting to spend time here with you? She'll need it cleaned up and made cozy."

Harry laughed. "It already is cleaned up, Kreacher," he said. "As for this place being made cozy, I'm afraid that might be beyond even your talents." Harry was suddenly glad Kreacher was there; talking to him had helped clear his mind of his earlier thoughts. He knew he'd have to revisit them many times in the coming weeks, but Harry was determined to make whatever time he had left as wonderful for Ginny as he possibly could. And that meant being able to joke about bringing his girlfriend back to his house for sex. He pretended to think. "Although, some particularly soft sheets on the bed in my room would be great. Tomorrow though," he added hastily when it looked like Kreacher was about to take himself off to Diagon Alley to shop. "For now, I want you to rest."

Kreacher bowed low again. "I will rest, Master Harry, and then I will get everything ready for you and Miss Weasley. It will be perfect, I promise."

The thought of Kreacher pouring over home-decorating magazines flashed through Harry's head and he bit back a smile as he thanked the elf again.

After that, there wasn't anything to do besides go back to the Burrow. Despite the fact that he'd left a note about where he'd gone, Harry suspected his absence would not be excused for long. Fixing his mind firmly on what he wanted to do with Ginny the next time they had a moment alone, he got up and left the library.


	15. Fifteen

The sound of crickets around the pond had nearly lulled Harry to sleep, despite the fact that the most strenuous thing he'd done that day was help Molly levitate platters of pancakes and eggs to the breakfast table. The weight of Ginny's head on his chest was solid and comforting, and he aimlessly ran his hand up and down her back. Soft snores nearby told him that Ron actually _was_ napping, and Harry stifled a chuckle.

His decision made, Harry had found it easier than he'd expected to hide his plans in the days leading up to his birthday. The accepting was the hard part. Nothing could happen until he worked out a number of details, and in the quiet and lazy days at the Burrow, it was easy to let time slip away, pretending there was nothing else to do. Rationally, he knew he couldn't hide forever, and he'd been forcing himself to return to the sterile silence of Grimmauld Place every few days on the pretense of checking things over. Really, he was writing up his will - a detail he told himself was a smart idea even if circumstances had been different. He divided his possessions between the Weasleys and Teddy, deciding after long thought to leave the house to his godson. Harry liked the idea of passing down the home in the same way Sirius had given it to him, and in any event, Teddy was a Black, Andromeda's exile from the family notwithstanding. It would be harder for some other branch of the family to lay claim to it if it belonged to Teddy. The money Harry was leaving would be more than enough for the various Weasleys to get homes of their own, if they so chose.

Thinking about the fact that he'd be leaving the Weasleys in strong financial position was almost - but not quite - enough to make Harry feel okay about his decision. To be sure, the times that he did let his mind go to _after,_he only thought of the Weasleys as a whole and how they might cope. He didn't have to ego to think they might take it as hard as they'd taken the loss of Fred, but he imagined a group mourning that was similar. He absolutely did not let himself think about how any one of them would fare individually.

But he'd almost given everything away after his last visit to Grimmauld Place.

_The house seemed even more deserted than usual when Harry arrived, and that was saying something. Kreacher wasn't there, and Harry missed the elf's polite chatter and the way he'd begun asking about Ginny and her well-being. Sometimes, Harry wondered if Kreacher somehow knew Harry's plans, and that his questions showed he knew that Ginny's well-being was at risk. It was disconcerting, but the quiet even more so; more than once, Harry whipped his head around, thinking he'd seen movement out of the corner of his eye or heard voices seeping from the walls or fireplace. He cut his visit short, returning to the Burrow more pensive than usual. Ginny seemed to understand, and didn't question him, but she couldn't prevent the nightmare that plagued Harry that night._

_He was back in Grimmauld Place and someone was laughing, a high-pitched, evil laugh that Harry had heard before. Ginny was screaming and Harry ran through the rooms looking for her, his progress impeded by the fact that snakes were everywhere, oozing from the walls and blocking his path. Ginny's screams cut off suddenly just as Harry found her, lying on the bed in his bedroom, being choked by the serpents that covered her body. Harry yelled at them in Parseltongue to kill him instead, but before he knew if he'd succeeded in saving Ginny, she was shaking him awake, a look of concern on her face. _

_Harry stared at her for a long minute, disoriented by the dual visions of Ginny both suffocating and running a soft hand down his face. Only that confusion prevented him from blurting out what he'd almost said, that he wanted to die to keep her safe. "Tom Riddle's portrait was in Grimmauld Place," he gasped instead. "He was about to attack us." Beyond Ginny, Harry could see Ron standing in his pajamas, his wand out, and Harry felt a spark of gratitude. _

"_Thanks," he muttered, and Ron shrugged. _

"_These days, nothing would surprise me," he answered._

_The thought of Voldemort being able to actually attack Harry through his dreams was too horrible to contemplate much longer, and he'd accepted Hermione's suggestion that they all go down to the kitchen for hot chocolate. Harry hadn't gone back to Grimmauld Place since, a decision that he knew made Ginny quietly pleased, even though she'd never mention it._

Harry pulled out of his thoughts to discover that at some point, Ron and Hermione had disappeared. He looked around once more to be sure they hadn't just moved a bit away or disillusioned themselves but couldn't see anything.

"They went back to the house; said something about getting something to eat and maybe having a kip." Ginny's voice was languid, but not sleepy, and Harry tilted his head to look at her. She licked her lips and that was all it took. He rolled carefully onto his side, moving his hand to support Ginny's head off the ground. She immediately scooted up so they were face to face.

"We should set some wards," she said. "Although I doubt anyone will be looking for us for a while."

That was true, and while convenient for their present purposes, it also made Harry a little depressed to be reminded why. He pushed that thought away.

"I want to swim with you," he said instead.

Ginny's eyes brightened with interest. "But I don't have my swimsuit here," she said.

Harry shrugged. "Neither do I." He stood up and pulled his t-shirt over his head. "Should I keep my bottoms on?"

Ginny tugged off her sundress and then reached back and unhooked her bra. "I don't know, should I?" she asked, gesturing down at her knickers.

Harry swallowed. "We wouldn't want anything to get wet," he said thickly, taking off his shorts and pants and watching as Ginny shimmied off her own underwear. "Should I set wards?"

"Nah, the water will cover us enough," said Ginny. "Anyone who finds us will be too busy turning around and running off to see much."

Harry suspected Ginny's cavalier attitude was born of years of comfort seeing her brothers in states of undress, and vice versa. He couldn't feel nearly as relaxed, but trusted in the fact that not too many people were home, at least. For example, Bill or Charlie. Pushing thoughts of the Weasley family out of his mind, Harry followed Ginny into the warm pond. He walked slowly on purpose so that he could watch her from behind, hurrying to catch up only when she was deep enough that he could see the water lapping over the top of her breasts when she turned towards him. Her hair spread out around her and Harry pushed it gently out of the way and lifted her onto him, moving them together deeper into the water and the far side of the pond where low hanging branches offered privacy. They kept their eyes open and watched each other as Harry lifted Ginny up and down, the friction of her skin on his mixing with the cool water.

"No nightmares tonight," Ginny said decisively. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself up until he nearly slipped out before dropping herself back down. Harry groaned.

"None," he agreed. "I'll sleep like a baby." He put his hands on Ginny's bum and she wrapped her legs more tightly around his waist.

Their movements were deliberate and unhurried, and Harry was pleased to hear Ginny call out his name when she climaxed before he did. He leaned back to smile at her after he finished.

"I wasn't sure you'd be able to finish from this position," he said. He pushed her hair back and leaned over to kiss the side of her neck.

"Oh, that wasn't a problem at all." Ginny's voice was languid again but now she sounded tired too. "The friction was really intense."

"I want to try to shower at Grimmauld Place," he mumbled. Despite the water holding them up, Harry's legs were starting to feel like jelly. He began walking them back to the bank where their clothes were.

"Okay, but only because I'll be with you." Ginny sounded a lot less sleepy all of a sudden. Harry dropped her lightly to the grass and she waved her wand to dry them off before starting to get dressed again. She gave him a serious look. "I don't want you going there alone again."

Harry didn't want to explain that his house was the only place he felt secure to let his thoughts go dark without fear of being discovered. And really, he supposed they'd already gone as dark as they could anyway. He kissed Ginny. "Only if Kreacher's there," he said. When she looked to protest, he kissed her again. "But I won't if you don't want me to," he promised. "I don't need to be there alone."

Ginny gave him a look like she wanted to say more but stopped, and Harry almost confessed right there. There shouldn't be any secrets between them anymore, and Harry didn't like the feeling. He was slowly coming to the realization that he was going to have to tell Ginny the truth, before; there was no way he could just let himself walk to his death and not let her know first. He just had to be prepared to refute all her arguments for him to live.

But all that was for another day; Harry wanted to retain the feeling of being inside Ginny as long as possible. He took her hand as they walked back to the Burrow, talking casually about his birthday dinner the following night. He'd argued against having one at all and been soundly overruled. George had insisted the most of all and Harry had given in without too much fight. He'd be banished from the Burrow for the day so as to be completely surprised about the menu and it occurred to him that he could insist that Ginny be banished with him.

"Would you be terribly upset not to help cook my birthday dinner?" he asked as they approached the back door. They were still ten feet away and he could already smell tonight's meal. "I assume won't be having roast chicken since that's what we seem to be having tonight."

Ginny laughed. "Your ability to name my mum's dishes purely by smell with never cease to amaze me," she said. "And yes, I've been given the job of keeping you distracted tomorrow." She gave him a saucy grin.

"Mmm, distracted," said Harry. "I like the sound of that."

He slept well that night, devoid of nightmares or even dreams, and woke up on his eighteenth birthday feeling more rested that he had in months. Ginny met him downstairs for breakfast toting a large picnic basket that Ron looked hungrily at until Ginny swatted him away. "Make your own," she said, laughing at his pout. "I'm sure mum won't let you starve."

"I won't, but I'm also not giving you any of the food I need for tonight," called Molly from where she stood at the stove. Harry wandered casually over, intending to take a peek, and was surprised to have his progress stopped by some sort of invisible barrier. Molly turned around and smiled. "I told you, tonight's a secret," she said. She sounded more close to normal than Harry had heard in a long time and he played along.

"Going now," he said quickly, grabbing Ginny's hand and tugging her towards the door. "What time should we be back?"

"We'll sit down at 8," said Molly. "That will give everyone time to get here from work and . . . things." Her voice was mild but Harry couldn't help but flush at the implication of what sort of things Ginny's mum thought they might be doing today. He carefully didn't look at anyone as they all left the house.

"I know we don't want to spend the entire day together, but maybe we can start out?" Hermione spoke hesitantly as the four of them headed towards the Apparition point.

Knowing he had an entire day to be with Ginny made Harry agreeable. He nodded. "Let's go somewhere together," he suggested.

The meadow Hermione's Apparition took them was pretty and peaceful, and yet, something about the place made Harry uncomfortable. He was certain he'd never seen the distant farmhouse before, but it felt like he'd had. Next to him, Ron stiffened.

"This looks like someplace we'd have camped last year," he said quietly. He put his arm around Hermione. "Where are we?"

She flushed. "I tried to have a list of places in my head all the time, just in case. This was one we never used. The farm is called Bracken Hill." She bit her lip. "Should we go somewhere else?"

Harry didn't want to hurt Hermione's feelings and truly, the place looked completely innocuous . "It's fine," he said quickly. He pulled out the blanket he'd packed and spread it on the grass. "Come sit."

Everyone followed suit, but some of the easiness of the day was lost. Later, Harry thought maybe that was why he let himself get caught up into discussion about where Voldemort might be, and what he could be planning. It wasn't proper birthday conversation but they'd already been pretending everything was fine for too long anyway. Harry didn't contribute much; he'd already considered every possible angle during his hours alone Grimmauld Place. The rest of them would get there soon enough, he knew. He just wished he didn't have to be around when they did.

Harry played with Ginny's hair while Ron talked about chess. "We've got to figure out You Know Who's weakness and exploit it," he said. He grinned at Hermione. "Like, your weakness is that you think of each move you made as a singular act, instead of thinking ahead to what ramifications your current move will have on the future." He leaned over and kissed her. "That's why I always win."

Hermione shrugged. "At least I'm doing a better job trying to figure out three moves ahead with You Know Who," she said. She looked at Harry and Ginny. "He has to have a weakness somewhere; I was talking about it with the curse breakers the other day. Once we figure it out, we can exploit it."

She spoke so matter of factly that Harry responded in kind before he even thought. "Well, his weakness is me, of course." He looked at each of them. "Whatever he's doing right now to try to come back, we have to stop before he succeeds. And there's only one way to do that."

He felt Ginny stiffen in his arms. Ron and Hermione got there a moment later. Ron shook his head. "No," he said. "That's not what I . . ."

"I know it's not, Ron," said Harry quietly. Keeping his decision to himself had gone on long enough. He'd come to terms with dying, now he had to come to terms with letting the people he loved most in the world know that there wasn't any other option. "It has to be done before he has a chance to return."

Harry turned his head and looked at Ginny. He wasn't sure if this was a conversation he should have had alone with her first, but truly, he didn't think he would have been able to manage that. And Ron and Hermione deserved to know as much as she did.

"We already talked about this, Harry." Ginny's voice was deceptively calm and Harry knew he was already in trouble. He tried to match her tone.

"I know we did, and I know what I promised, but that was before; that was when we thought there was another way out of this." Harry turned his back on Ron and Hermione for a moment and took Ginny's face in his hands. "It's what I've been doing at Grimmauld Place, in addition to listening to Kreacher gush about you. I've been coming terms with the idea that there may not be another way out, that there isn't another way out." Harry hoped that his touch would somehow soften the blow, and Ginny did lean into him. When she spoke again, she didn't yell, and that was how Harry knew broken she felt. Ron was sputtering behind him and Harry could hear Hermione's quiet voice. He suspected she'd realized the truth already, but had the sense to keep quiet about it and let Harry figure it out himself. He knew he needed to talk to both of them but in the end, they'd have each other. Only Ginny would be alone and so Harry focused on her now.

"When did you decide?" she asked quietly. Harry sort of wished she'd yell. He shrugged. "After we got back from Hogwarts, I started thinking about it more. He's doing magic I don't think would have been possible the first time. He's learning, and he's getting more powerful, more quickly. We don't have years and years while he hides out in Albania."

"Didn't we talk about going to Albania?" Ron's voice was suddenly hopeful. Harry shook his head. "He'd not in Albania, not this time," he said. He turned back to Ginny and touched her cheek. "Can we talk more about this?"

Ginny stood up abruptly. "We can, yes," she said, her voice shaking. "But not right now; not yet." She took a step back from Harry, her eyes pleading. "I think I always . . . I can't yet." She impatiently wiped a tear from her cheek but when Harry took a step towards her, she put up a hand to stop him. "I will, I promise," she said. Her voice was steadying, and Harry knew that his news was not as much of a surprise as he'd thought. Ginny had known he'd conclude that sacrificing himself was the only solution for a while, and like Hermione, she'd stayed quiet about it. But while Harry suspected that Hermione agreed with him, he knew Ginny wasn't ready to. His heart ached to go to her but he forced himself still. Ginny took a deep breath.

"I will, Harry," she said finally. "I just need some time, just a little time, to myself first." Her voice boded no argument.

"Of course," he said quietly. She had given him space, after all. "Take all the time you need."

Ginny gave him a watery smile. "I'll be at your birthday dinner," she said. "I promise."

Harry had almost forgotten, and he cursed the fact that they'd had this discussion today, of all days. He nodded. "I'll be waiting for you," he said.

Ginny reached forward and gave him a kiss and it took all Harry's effort not to wrap his arms around her to allow themselves to sink into distraction again. But he let go, and with a final small smile, she turned on the spot.

Right before Ginny disappeared, Harry had the strong urge to reach out and grab her and go along to wherever she was headed. He couldn't stand the thought of her being alone right now, even if that's what she thoughts needed. But before he could complete his thought, she was gone and Harry felt a pit of warning in his stomach that he couldn't make this better.

He looked at Ron and Hermione. "I know I owe you both as much of an explanation as anyone," he said. "I just don't think I can manage it right now." He'd never been so honest with his friends before; he was used to hiding his thoughts and now he didn't know what to expect their reaction would be; part of him thought Hermione might shoot a spell to bind him to the spot so she could lecture him for hours about the thoughtlessness of telling Ginny his news today, of all days.

But they both looked as devastated as he felt. "This isn't the end, we'll figure something out," Ron offered, but Harry could hear the hopelessness in his voice. Their dinner with the curse breakers and healers and Unspeakables had been over a week ago and no one had come up with even a tentative plan or possible suggestion for what to do next. The most promising idea that had been floated involved using a Dementor to try to suck Voldemort's soul out of Harry while keeping his own intact, and that idea wasn't promising at all. He hadn't said it out loud at the time, but he'd rather be completely dead than a soulless shell. Indeed, no one could even agree where Voldemort was at the moment, and the uncertainty was making everyone anxious.

"I think I need to . . . go for a fly," he said. Flying always made him feel better, but Harry suspected he'd need to journey halfway around the world this time to get his head to clear even a bit. But part of him suspected that Ginny might have chosen the same activity, and Harry hoped that maybe he'd get the chance to see her and talk to her before they were thrust into faking their way through his birthday dinner before they had the chance to talk alone.

But Ginny's broom was still in the shed when Harry got there. He considered leaving her a note in case she showed up later, or sending a Patronus about where he was, but in the end decided to give her the privacy she'd asked for. All through the long day, Harry flew aimlessly, trying to keep his mind as blank as possible. But no matter how his mind wandered, it always came back to Ginny, and more than once, Harry started to contact her, to insist they talk now and not later. He half expected that she would call for him, and he kept his eyes peeled for her Patronus galloping up to him with a message that he should join her. But the skies were clear and quiet, and when Harry finally landed back at the Burrow at 6 pm, Ginny still hadn't arrived.

He showered and carefully avoided the kitchen and any sign of the dinner Molly was setting up at a long table outside and instead walked around the orchard. Ron and Hermione appeared soon afterwards with serious faces and looking as if their day together had not brought them any peace either. When the clock struck 7, Harry assumed Ginny would appear shortly. When it struck 7:30, he wondered if she was purposely staying away until right before dinner so that they wouldn't have to begin their talk with everyone around.

It wasn't until 8, with everyone else amassed and ready to sit down to dinner, and after several unanswered Patronuses, that Harry walked into the kitchen and looked at the family clock. All of their names had been huddled around "Mortal Peril" for so long that everyone had stopped paying much attention to it. Like all the rest, Ginny's hand still pointed there too, but now something was different. As Harry watched, Ginny's hand vibrated and then wobbled, and then moved, briefly, to the spot marked Grimmauld Place. It hovered there for a second before sliding back to Mortal Peril and then beginning the pattern again.

Harry's heart slid into his stomach.

"He can't get in there, the wards prevent it." Hermione and Ron were suddenly there too, looking at horror at the clock. "Bill?"

Harry heard Hermione's voice but he didn't stop to wait. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder off the mantle he through it into the fireplace and stepped into the flames.

"Harry, wait," someone said, but he ignored it.

"Grimmauld Place," he shouted, whirling away. _Find Ginny._

_A/N: An astute reader pointed out that Ginny should not have been able to Apparate by herself, as she's not of age yet. I'm going with the idea that right now, all rules are suspended in the aftermath of the War, and that she learned while she was stuck at Muriel's because her parents felt it was important for her to be able to escape if needed. She could learn inside the wards at the time without alerting the Ministry. Thanks for the head's up StephanieO!_


	16. Sixteen

A/N: I intended this to be only the first scene of the next chapter, but I think it works better alone, even though it's short. Let me know if you agree. ;)

_July 31, Earlier_

As Ginny Apparated away, she couldn't help but silently thank her father for insisting she learn how that previous spring at Aunt Muriel's, after she'd had to leave Hogwarts. It wasn't like the Carrows had cared about giving them lessons anyway, and it was true she'd felt a bit safer once she knew she had the ability to escape if needed. Now she didn't think she was actually _escaping_ from Harry, and she knew he didn't think so either. He'd let her go because he understood she'd needed some time to absorb his news.

Maybe it was because she had just extracted Harry's promise not to go there alone himself, but Ginny brought herself to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place without much thought. She knew she'd have privacy here, and time to think. It was very quiet when Ginny arrived, but several dishes in the sink made her think that Kreacher must likely be along soon to straighten up; he'd likely be horrified that she'd even seen them at all. She took the time to make herself tea, the familiar ritual bringing some calm into the turmoil of her thoughts. When it finished steeping, she carried the cup and a plate of biscuits up to the library, carefully not looking at the stairway that led higher in the house, up to where Harry's bedroom was. Ginny didn't want to think about that bedroom now, or what they'd done in that bedroom, or, most importantly, if they'd ever do it again. And they would do it again, she told herself as she settled on one of the sofas. She'd insist that she and Harry had a proper goodbye, if he was going to insist on his terrible, terrible decision.

Because Ginny knew how serious Harry was. It wasn't theatrics or overreaction or threat, and that in itself was what made it so awful. She'd seen it in his face that this was something he'd been thinking about for a while; indeed, he'd probably been sitting very near where Ginny was now while he decided. Harry wasn't a planner like Hermione or a strategist like Ron. He acted mostly on instinct and Ginny could imagine how difficult having to sit and make the decision had been. She hated that he'd been alone - he'd been so often alone during his life, even when surrounded by people. And of course, Harry would have insisted on being alone for this too. She looked around the room, trying to put herself in Harry's place, into his head. Although Ginny had told him that she needed time alone to come to terms with his decision, what she really wanted was to figure out how she could talk him out of it. There had to be some argument that would penetrate and Ginny was determined to figure out what it was.

_Penetrate_ sent Ginny's thoughts briefly back to the bedroom upstairs. If she'd thought the promise of as much sex as he wanted would be enough to change Harry's mind, Ginny would have gladly spent the next decade naked. But she knew Harry better than that. As much as he loved their _distractions_, he'd never allow himself to give totally into the indulgence while Voldemort was still a threat.

Sighing to herself, Ginny wondered if coming to Grimmauld Place had been a good idea after all. The place was eerie on a good day, and now being here alone was making Ginny start to feel like she was being watched. She stood up, intending to return her tea things to the kitchen before leaving, when a pile of parchment on a nearby table caught her eye. Frowning, she walked over to see what it was; ever since Voldemort had gained access to the house and seen their research, Hermione had been vigilant about making sure that everything was put away. Ginny walked closer, recognizing Harry's untidy scrawl immediately. She peered closer, and her heart caught in her throat. Harry was writing his will.

Any lingering doubt Ginny had about the finality of Harry's decision evaporated at the sight of the careful thought he'd put into dividing up his worldly possessions. There were a number of scratched out sentences at the very top of the parchment, and Ginny suspected that Harry had tried - and failed - to start by writing a message to them all. He'd left some blank space to try again, but the first words Ginny could decipher were the names of her family. She couldn't stop the tears as she read; she'd had no idea how much wealth Harry possessed, and he'd left more than half of it to the Weasleys. Ginny saw Teddy's name as well, and comments about charitable donations, but she had to stop reading. It was too painful to think about; if things went as Harry intended, at some point in the future Ginny would have to sit and listen while some nameless Ministry bureaucrat read Harry's words instead. And Harry wouldn't be there. The rest of them would be safe, but as far as Ginny was concerned, the cost was too great. Anyone else close to Harry would feel the same way. She doubted any of them would even be able to spend the money.

A movement out of the corner of her eye made Ginny's whirl around, but then she relaxed. "Kreacher," she said with a smile. "It's good to see you." Ginny hadn't had a lot of interactions with the elf since his change in personality after Harry and Ron and Hermione had given him Regulus Black's old locket, but she appreciated the fact that he'd asked Harry about her.

"Miss Weasley," said Kreacher. He gave an odd little stiff bow, hands behind his back. "I . . . I didn't expect you here." Kreacher looked around the room. "Is Harry . . . Master Potter here too?" His eyes darted towards the hallway.

Ginny shook her head. "No, Harry didn't come with me," she said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "I needed some time alone to think." She gestured at her cup and plate. "I was getting ready to leave though; should I take these down to the kitchen before I go?" She suspected it was the wrong thing to ask; of course Kreacher wouldn't allow her to clean up her own things. But the house elf just stared at her for a long moment before jerkily shaking his head.

"I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that," he said finally.

Ginny smiled. "I had a feeling you'd say that," she said. "It's habit, me cleaning up after myself. And since I'm not of age yet, I'm used to doing it by hand. But I'll leave my things here before I leave if that's better, okay?" She smiled again.

Kreacher didn't seem to be paying attention. He was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, his hands still clasped deferentially behind his back. He gave another jerky shake of his head. "I . . . can't," he said. "I'm sorry." His head shook faster.

Ginny frowned. "It's all right," she said, trying to think back to what Harry had said about Kreacher; could she have offended him somehow? "I won't tell anyone." She took a step to leave the room.

"You won't!" Kreacher screamed suddenly. "You won't be able to tell!" He moved so quickly, Ginny wasn't able to react before he lunged at her. For the first time she saw that his stance hadn't been subservient; he was clutching something in each hand, had hidden them behind his back. Ginny saw a flash of silver as Kreacher slashed at her with a knife - the same knife he'd used to take his blood for the wards.

She screamed as pain shot up her arm.

The noise seemed to startle Kreacher and he jumped back, staring at the blood flowing down Ginny's arm and pooling on the floor. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Miss Weasley, I'm so sorry. He got in; I couldn't stop him. He got in, he got in, he got in!" The elf began rocking again, tears flowing down his face.

Ginny didn't bother asking Kreacher who he was talking about. Voldemort was here somehow, and she had to warn Harry. The pain in her arm was excruciating and making her dizzy. She reached for her wand and realized she'd dropped it when Kreacher struck. It was on the floor, she could see it just next to the leg of a nearby chair. She needed to pick it up but her legs wouldn't move.

_Take Her Blood._

Ginny had no idea if the voice spoke aloud or only in her head. It wasn't Kreacher's voice; indeed, she could still faintly hear the elf moaning 'he got in, he got in,' as he rocked in place. The silver knife was on the floor now too; it was closer than her wand. She should get the knife. It would work too, wouldn't it? Hadn't Dobby been killed with a knife? Why had Kreacher hurt her? He couldn't be that mad about the dishes, could he? Ginny's thoughts were becoming more muddled. The voice in her head and Kreacher's cries were swirling and merging and then separating and making the room tilt around her. She fell to her knees.

Kreacher moved again and Ginny saw her blood fly through the air but couldn't follow where it was going. She tried to reach for her wand, she had to warn Harry. She knew the elf was coming towards her but his image blurred and she couldn't follow him. His voice faded away, drowned out by the other.

_You will do it. Raise Your Arm._

Kreacher was holding a wand. Ginny saw his eyes flash with sorrow; then they turned red. He raised his arm.

_AVADA KEDAVRA!_


	17. Seventeen

A/N: Answers and more questions, but we're getting close to the end. An enormous thank you to Melindaleo for being my blind beta on this piece and helping me dial back all the places I got too complicated and ambitious. And to Deadwoodpecker for being my "sighted beta" and cheerleader.

Harry didn't wait to stop spinning before throwing himself out of the Floo at Grimmauld Place, crashing into the kitchen table as a result. Before he'd even straightened up, a heavy hand on his shoulder impeded his attempts to go tearing up the stairs in search of Ginny.

"Wait," Bill's voice was quiet and calm, but the worry beneath it was palpable. Behind him, soft pops announced the arrival of Ron and Hermione, who'd apparently had enough wits about them to Apparate.

Harry shook off Bill's hand. "What?" he hissed. "We need to find her!" Harry tried to keep his voice quiet but his panic was rising. He could feel the familiar weakness starting to suffuse his limbs. It wasn't too strong yet but he knew what it meant. His anxiety grew. "He's here, or he was, somewhere," he said quickly.

Bill was saying a spell and pointing his wand at the door from the kitchen that led to the rest of the house. He nodded distractedly without looking at Harry. He said the spell again - it sounded like a modified _Homonem Revilio -_and frowned. Harry's heart plummeted. He knew he had to ask but couldn't form the words. Instead he pushed past Bill. This time, the man didn't try to stop him.

Sounds were coming from the library; someone was . . . crying? It sounded familiar but not quite human. Adrenaline allowed Harry to ignore the way his legs and head both grew heavier the closer he got to the room, and he was still upright and moving under his own power when he saw Ginny's body. Momentum propelled him forward but his knees buckled and he fell at her side with a cry. He had to force himself not to give into the pain in his head and instead focus on Ginny. He was barely aware of the movement around him - more people had arrived and were spreading out and saying words and shooting spells. But Harry could only see his girlfriend lying on the floor, her fiery hair dimmed by the darker pool of blood underneath her. She was completely still.

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Ron knew there were things he should be doing to help the curse-breakers and healers and Aurors who'd arrived at Grimmauld Place after him, but he stood frozen at the door to the library watching as his best friend worked desperately to revive his little sister, who looked very close to dead. Ginny was so pale, and the blood seemed to be everywhere, but Ron refused to believe the worst. He'd barely begun trying to accept the fact that they might not be able to find a way to save Harry; he'd never considered how much danger the rest of them might be in too. Harry was shaking Ginny by the shoulders, saying words to her that Ron couldn't - wouldn't - let himself hear. Hermione came to his side.

"She's not . . . dead," she said quietly. But something in her tone made Ron pause. He turned away from Harry and Ginny. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice breaking. It wasn't what he'd meant to say - he'd meant to ask how she knew - and the fact that Hermione didn't immediately reassure him made Ron know that she _wasn't_certain that Ginny wasn't dead.

"Bill did a spell," she began, when a sudden shout across the room made them both look up. One of the Aurors was levitating something in front of her; after a moment Ron recognized it as the silver knife Kreacher had used to give his blood for the wards on the house. The knife's blade was bloody again, and Ron didn't have to ask to know it had been used on Ginny. He felt his stomach flip.

"Where's the house-elf?" someone asked. Ron gripped Hermione's arm.

"Are you sure she isn't dead?" he asked again. In front of him, Harry was cradling Ginny in his arms and rocking her while Bill and a healer waved their wands around the both of them. Harry was nearly as pale as Ginny; he looked like he was barely holding himself upright. Ron had been watching Harry battle having Voldemort inside him for nearly seven years and the expression on his face right now was one that Ron had seen too often lately.

"He's here," Ron said suddenly to the room. Everyone froze and looked at him. "Voldemort's here. Or he's close." He knew it didn't matter if he used the real name at this point. He pointed at Harry. "Harry's near collapse." Indeed, Harry's rocking of Ginny looked more like dizzy swaying now. But he somehow managed to glare at Ron.

"I'm fine," he croaked. "Help Ginny." He looked back down at her and began speaking softly, and Ron could hear the desperation in his tone. He looked at the healer, who was still waving her wand and frowning. Ron felt a thrum of dread.

"What's wrong with her?" He spoke more harshly than he intended but the healer didn't seem to mind.

"I'm not completely sure," she said slowly. "She lost a good bit of blood, but not nearly enough to cause this injury. I've repaired the gash already and it should heal without a problem. And yet . . . It's almost as if . . ." the woman shook her head. "But it can't be. She wouldn't have . . ." The healer stopped speaking and looked fearfully around. She shook her head. "It can't be," she said again.

"Please, you have to save her." Harry's voice was hardly more than a whisper and yet his plea seemed to echo around the room.

"She's going to be okay," he said. He was talking almost to himself. "She can't . . . it's supposed to be me. Only me." He looked at Bill. "You know what to do, don't you? We need my protection. More of it. You can get it; you made them yourself."

Bill stared at Harry for a moment and then nodded. "I'm going to take down the blood wards," he said quietly. He looked around the room. "Anyone they are keeping out right now will be able to get inside. Does everyone understand that?" There were murmurs of acquiescence around the room. Harry was shaking his head.

"It doesn't matter," Ron heard him mutter. "He's already here."

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Harry didn't know - or care - how Bill pulled the blood wards he and Ginny had created out of the walls of Grimmauld Place. He saw the same red glow as when they'd gone up and held his breath as Bill and another curse breaker directed the haze over to where Ginny lay in his arms. He just knew that somehow, that previous mingling of their blood would be the thing to save her. He tried not to ask Bill to hurry. Even in the minutes he'd been holding Ginny her skin had become colder and the faint pulses of heartbeat he could feel were getting farther apart. Other than the cut on her arm - now mended by the healer - Harry couldn't see a single mark on her skin. He knew only one curse that caused so much damage with so little signature, and he knew Ginny was dying.

But she wasn't dead yet and Harry focused only on that while Bill and the other curse breaker - Tulip her name was - covered Ginny in the protection from her and Harry's blood; the protection that had been created when Harry leapt in front of the same curse Ginny had just faced. Bill had suspected Harry's action at the battle wouldn't give Ginny as much protection as Lily had given Harry and it seemed he'd been right. But it had offered some; Ginny wasn't unscathed but she also hadn't been killed by the Avadaa Kedavra, Harry told himself again. And they were going to give her more protection. And she'd be fine. For a moment, it occurred to him to wonder how Voldemort had been able to hold a wand in order to cast the spell. And although Harry could feel his presence, he wasn't bearing down on them in the library right now. Both of those facts were important, Harry knew. He needed to tell someone. Ron. He should tell Ron and Hermione so they could start figuring it out. He tried to catch their eyes to tell them but they seemed to be very far away across the room.

"It's not working." Bill's voice, terse and sure, broke Harry out of his thoughts. He shook his head.

"It has to," he said. He rubbed Ginny's arms, trying to force warmth back into them. "Try harder. My blood's strong enough. He held out his arm. "Take more if you have too."

"It doesn't work that way. The mixed blood isn't reabsorbing," Bill said. He rubbed at his face. "It should . . . I can't figure out why." He took a deep breath and tried again, his expression growing more frustrated as he looked down at Ginny's still form.

Tulip frowned.

"There's an impediment," she said. "I can't figure out . . ."

"It's because . . . mine is there too. . . Mister Weasley." The voice that interrupted was the one Harry had heard crying as he'd rushed up the stairs. He jerked his head up, feeling the edges of his vision blur. Kreacher looked exhausted. He dragged himself slowly into the room, staring at the amassed people as if he didn't really see them. His voice was barely above a whisper, every word seeming to take more effort than he could spare. One of the Aurors across the room drew his wand and pointed it at the elf; Harry could see the silver knife floating in a containment spell. He ignored it.

"The wards in the walls, we mixed our blood with Kreacher's," Harry gasped. The pain grew more intense and he struggled to hide it. _Don't let him know. _ He looked in the direction Kreacher had come from, half expecting to see the snakelike face peering at him from the doorway. But of course no one was there. _Could he let anyone know? Were they in danger this instant or did they have time?_He took a deep breath, trying to think it through, but it was too much. He needed to tell someone; tell Ron and Hermione and Bill at least. They could hide their thoughts from the rest, couldn't they? Or should he keep quiet and keep them safe? And Ginny . . .

Harry couldn't focus on everything he was realizing and help Ginny at the same time. Turning his gaze away from Kreacher he made his decision quickly, knowing it was likely the wrong one. "The vials . . . in the walls . . ."

Bill jumped up. "We blended Kreacher's blood with Harry's and Ginny's for the wards in the walls but separated it before we buried more in the foundation of the house," he said. He sounded frustrated with himself for forgetting. "It'll take some effort to get it out." He looked at the house elf. "Can you help me retrieve it?" Kreacher stiffened and began rocking. "He got in, he got in, he got in," he chanted to himself. "I'm so sorry I let him in."

Bill's expression softened. "We know that, Kreacher. It's not your fault. Bill's voice was gentle, but firm. "Do you know where he is now?"

Kreacher screamed and everyone jumped. "He got in!" The elf grabbed at his ears and began pulling on them in agony and guilt.

Bill huffed a sigh of frustration. "We know that, Kreacher," he said again. "But this is very important. Where is Voldemort now?"

Kreacher stared at Bill but didn't answer. He just kept rocking more and more violently until his head was actually banging on the floor. Bill looked at Harry. "Can you . . ." he began to ask.

Harry shook his head. "Get the blood," he said heavily. "Save Ginny." If anything, her stillness had become more complete in the last minutes. "There isn't much time."

"I'll go with you, Mister Weasley." Kreacher's self-flagellation had stopped abruptly. He wiped his eyes and stood up. "I'll help you get the blood vials from the walls."

Bill gave Kreacher an odd look at the rapid change of behavior but he nodded. "That would be helpful," he said. He gestured for the elf to follow him out of the room.

"Wait." Harry couldn't let them go; images of Cedric flashed in his mind. _Kill the spare._ "I'll go. I . . . need to go." He didn't want to leave Ginny but he couldn't let anything happen to another Weasley because of him. He struggled to his feet and looked at Kreacher. "You stay here." He tried to make his voice sound authoritative but wasn't sure it was enough. Kreacher twisted his hands. "Master Harry," he began. Harry held up his hand to stop him.

"Just . . . stay here," he said. He couldn't think of any better order to give; the blackness was rapidly becoming too much to fight. He reached for Bill. "Help me," he said quickly. "Where do we go?"

Bill looked at him and then at Kreacher. The frown on his face deepened as he shook his head. "I'll get it. You stay with Ginny." He looked like he wanted to say something else but after a moment gave a small shrug. "I'll be back soon." He gave one more desperate look at his sister and ran out of the room.

Harry's legs couldn't hold him up anymore. Ron grabbed him as he swayed and helped him sit down at Ginny's head. Only once he had assured himself that she hadn't gotten any worse did Harry dare to look at the house-elf. To his relief, he saw that Kreacher had followed his order; it didn't look like he'd moved an inch since Harry ordered him to stay. His small body was shaking violently though, but Harry didn't have the strength to consider the effort it must be taking him. He needed space to think without the pain, but he wouldn't leave Ginny and he couldn't leave Kreacher. Instead, Harry gritted his teeth and held on.

It was probably only a few minutes but seemed like hours before Bill returned, a crystal vial clutched in his hand. Harry was sitting up straight brushing his hand gently down Ginny's face; the worst of the weakness had begun to ebb soon after Bill left. He and Ron and Hermione had exchanged worried glances as Harry began to feel better and he knew they were making the connections he had. Still, none of them spoke of it. Harry leaned down and kissed Ginny's forehead as Bill and Tulip said spells over the vial of blood.

Harry felt an odd thrum of energy course through him as his and Ginny's mingled blood floated out of the vial and turned into vapor with Tulip's spell. It gave him enough strength to turn to lift Ginny more fully into his lap. The weight of her was comforting; she just had to open her eyes. He was watching her so closely for any sign of improvement that at first he didn't realize what else was happening around him.

Ginny's skin warmed up a bit and a faint flush stained her cheeks, but just as Harry let himself breathe a sigh of relief, There was a horrible moan of pain from across the room. Harry just managed to see Kreacher stumbling towards him his weakness came crashing back. His arms gave way and he wasn't able to hold up Ginny anymore.

"Take her," he gasped to the room as everything swirled to black.

HPHPHP

Harry woke up at the Burrow to learn that apparently, everything had been figured out while he'd been unconscious. He was lying in a bed in the Weasley's sitting room but his head and body both felt remarkably - and not surprisingly - clear and strong.

"How's Ginny?" he asked sitting up and swinging his legs off the side of the camp bed that he normally used in Ron's bedroom. He didn't have to wait for an answer; Ginny was lying on a matching bed just next to his. The color in her face was much closer to normal and Harry could see the faint reddish glow of their blood ward still surrounding her body. But she was clearly not awake.

"She's stable," said the healer sitting in the narrow space between the two cots. "Her gradual improvement has slowed, but is still progressing." She waved her wand and a fresh reddish haze settled over Ginny's body.

"What do you mean, it's slowed?" asked Harry. He ignored the healer's glare and sat down on Ginny's bed. He took her hand and squeezed, dismayed that she didn't respond. "Has she woken up at all?" He looked around at the mostly strangers in the room. Ron and Hermione weren't there, and neither was Bill. The only familiar faces were Ginny's parents, who sat together on the sofa looking serious and rather lost. Harry didn't think they'd been at Grimmauld Place earlier, but someone had obviously filled them in. The house smelled faintly sweet and floury and with a start, Harry suddenly remembered the birthday dinner Molly had planned for that night. _His_birthday dinner, which had never gotten eaten. Instead, their daughter was lying nearby nearly dead because of him. He turned towards them. "Molly, Arthur," he began, not sure if he meant to explain or apologize or make some promise he probably couldn't keep. But Molly put up her hand.

"Don't Harry," she said, and he heard a touch of impatience beneath the worry. He looked at her, his heart plummeting. Of course she'd want him to stay away from Ginny from now on. He looked around, wondering how hard it would be to Apparate back to Grimmauld Place, and if he'd have the strength to get himself up to his room. He wouldn't have to be there long, just long enough to figure out how to place himself "beyond all mortal repair." It was sooner than he'd expected, but the events of the evening were all the proof Harry needed that it had to happen sooner rather than later. As soon as possible. He looked at Ginny. If she didn't wake up, if he wasn't able to say good bye . . . He suddenly couldn't breathe. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he didn't dare wipe them away. _It was the only way to keep everyone safe_ he told himself again.

Molly didn't seem to notice Harry's distress. "Don't blame yourself," she said bluntly. "I know you want to. But Bill told us everything, that You Know Who put poor Kreacher under the Imperius Curse, and caused him to hurt Ginny." She shook her head. "She's so lucky you got to her so quickly. Elf magic is a bit different than human, one of the curse-breakers explained." She turned to Arthur. "Tulip was it?" He nodded and Molly continued. "Yes, Tulip. Kreacher's magic in cutting Ginny did a bit more damage than one might expect, so it's taking her longer to wake up. But it will be okay. They have the blood the two of you mixed, and it's healing her." She gave Harry a watery smile and for a minute he expected her to get up and offer him something to eat. But then she leaned back and took her husband's hand, her eyes going back to rest of her daughter.

There were a number of things wrong with what Molly had said, and Harry wasn't sure if Tulip or any of the others believed them or if they were purposely planting false information so that the Weasleys didn't worry too much. He looked around at the people in the room; a curse breaker and healer were seated in a corner talking quietly and occasionally making small puffs of smoke come out of their wands, and by the door, Kingsley was looking over a piece of parchment with two Aurors. With a jolt, Harry realized it was his will, which he'd left on a table in the library. Kingsley caught his eye and deliberately shrunk it down and slipped it into his robes. "We'll discuss this later," he said quietly. "Right now, I have some other questions for you."

"Where are Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked quickly. He looked down at Ginny; had her hand twitched in his? He wasn't sure, and didn't want to move in case it happened again. "And where's Bill? _If any of them had gone back to Grimmauld Place . . . _

"Bill and a few others went back to the Little Hangleton Graveyard," said Kingsley pointedly. "They thought they had a lead on You Know Who's whereabouts. He's not at Grimmauld Place anymore."

"How do you know?" asked Harry sharply. He doubted Voldemort would have made his whereabouts known.

"We talked to the house-elf," said one of the Aurors. "Or tried to; poor beast's gone nearly round the bend. You Know Who put him under the Imperius, you know." There was no sense that the Auror didn't believe what he said and Harry didn't bother to correct him. He needed to talk to Ron and Hermione first. "What did Kreacher say?" he asked, deliberately using the elf's name.

"He kept apologizing, over and over, for letting him in," said the other Auror. "And rocking back and forth and hitting his head on the wall."

"Did you stop him?" asked Harry. He looked down at Ginny again. Even unconscious, he didn't like talking about these things in front of her, but at the same time, he refused to leave. The Aurors didn't say anything and Harry left out a huff of frustration. "How do you know You Know Who is gone from Grimmauld Place?" he asked again.

"The elf clearly wasn't under the Imperius anymore," said the first Auror. "He's crazy, yes, but it was all his own actions. He's devastated to have let You Know Who into the house; it must have happened while he was up working at Hogwarts; You Know Who put him under the curse there and forced him to bring him to Grimmauld Place. We suspect he's long gone now though. He probably went there to attack you, hurt Ginny instead, and then left. He's still incredibly weak; he'll need time to regroup."

Harry caught KIngsley's eye. The Minister have the tiniest shake of his head and Harry nodded at the Auror. "Well . . . that's good news then," he said finally. "It gives us some time."

The second Auror nodded. "It does," he said confidently. "We'll find him soon, I'm sure of it."

Harry wished he could match the man's enthusiasm. Fortunately, he didn't have to say much more. Ron and Hermione appeared at the door and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. They were the only people he wanted to talk to right now. Well, except for Ginny, of course. He looked at her lying on the bed and wondered what everyone would say if he just crawled under the covers next to her for a while. He was almost beyond caring what anyone else thought, actually. Only the presence of Molly and Arthur prevented him from it.

The healer did the spell with their mingled blood again and Harry frowned. Something about the ritual niggled at the back of his mind but he couldn't catch the thought enough to figure it out. It didn't seem to have much effect and Harry saw the healer's lips tighten. Molly had gotten up and now she was brushing her hand over Ginny's hair. Arthur came and stood beside her. "She'll recover," he said quietly. She just needs some time." He looked at Harry. "Maybe when Kreacher's feeling a bit better, he can come and . . . reverse whatever he did," he said. "That might make him feel better, wouldn't it?"

Harry only just managed not to blurt out that there was nothing Kreacher could do to save Ginny. He was nearly positive she'd somehow been struck by the Avada Kedavra and as far as Harry knew, just the fact that she wasn't dead was some kind of miracle. Maybe if it had been Molly to jump in front of the curse instead of him, Ginny might be fine right now, but obviously Harry's love hadn't been quite enough.

He pushed aside the thought that Molly would have been killed and the family would be mourning even more than just the loss of Fred right now. He gestured to Ron and Hermione. "I need to talk to you," he said.

Only when they were ensconced in Ron's room and protected by every ward the three of them knew, did Harry talk.

"They have it wrong down there, the Aurors do," he said quickly. Vol-You Know Who didn't put Kreacher under the Imperius Curse."

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. "We didn't think so either," said Hermione. "He . . . possessed him, didn't he?"

Harry nodded grimly. "I don't think house elves can be Imperiused," he said. "I think their magic prevents it. Of course, You Know Who wouldn't know that." He shook his head to himself. "Kreacher was fighting it the entire time," he said. "It must have destroyed him." Harry had never felt quite as strongly about Kreacher as he did Dobby, but the image of the house-elf, fighting Voldemort in his head so that he could give Harry needed information was not one he'd soon forget.

"And he didn't attack Ginny just because you weren't there," added Ron. "Although we let everyone else believe that."

"He wanted Ginny's blood," said Harry quietly. He'd only just put it all together when Kingsley had said Bill had gone back to the graveyard. "He's planning the resurrection ritual again," he said, feeling sick. "Ginny is the blood of the foe this time. And he must have gotten a bone of his father after all."

"But who's the loyal servant?" asked Ron. "That's what we've been trying to figure out."

Harry rubbed his hand over his face. "I'm sure he thinks it will be Kreacher," he said. "Voldemort'll think he can possess Kreacher and that will make him his servant. It's not going to work though." Harry was back to using the wizard's real name; it wasn't like he was off in hiding anymore. He grimaced. "And when he can't, he's likely to kill Kreacher." Harry felt sick, thinking about Voldemort's depravity. "I don't know how to stop him though. If it's not Kreacher, he'll just find someone else."

"We should warn Kreacher anyway," said Hermione. "Hide him away or something."

"He already knows," said Harry. "And he won't run away. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was the elf's loyalty. "He'll endure possession again if he has to." He frowned. "But where do you think Voldemort is right now?"

It was nearly morning by the time Harry, Ron and Hermione finally stopped talking. Harry couldn't believe that it was just the previous evening that he'd discovered that Ginny had been attacked. Several times he'd gone downstairs to check on her, unsurprised to see that her improvement seemed to have stagnated. Again, a thought about why flitted in and out of his brain and again, he couldn't catch it. Frustrated, he finally agreed to try to sleep; Molly pointed out that he was swaying on his feet from exhaustion and he allowed himself to be marched up to Ron's room where the camp bed had been replaced. He'd promised Kingsley a discussion about the will, and Harry knew he needed to be sharp for that, lest the man suspect Harry's grand plan to save everyone and pull some high-level Ministry move to try to stop him. So far, neither Ron nor Hermione had revealed his secret and for that, Harry was grateful. Granted, he suspected that it was what they'd been talking about before they'd come back to the Burrow earlier, but if they weren't going to say anything about it, neither was he.

And in between all those other thoughts, was Ginny. Harry almost couldn't believe the irony of the fact that the one thing that was preventing him from sneaking off to rid himself of the Horcrux was that Ginny wasn't able to hear him tell her goodbye. He wanted her to recover and wake up more than anything and yet, once that happened, he was going to have to break her heart. Once or twice he even hoped she might be faking her slumber, just to keep him around longer, but he knew he wasn't imagining the increasingly frustrated looks on the healers' faces when they examined her, or the way that her mouth looked a little more slack each time he kissed her lightly, which he did every time he came to sit with her. Molly was usually there too, knitting or reading aloud from Quidditch Today or just sitting and watching her daughter. Harry wanted to reassure Molly and Arthur that it was all going to be okay, but he had no such luxury of knowing. Instead, he just held Ginny's hand for hours on end and tried not to think of anything at all.

On the third day, Harry woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. He'd been dreaming again of Ginny and why she wasn't getting better, and felt right on the cusp of an answer when he woke up. Ron was snoring in the bed next to him and the house was quiet and still. Harry knew Ginny was being tended in the sitting room, and he slipped out of bed and into his dressing gown and slippers before journeying down the stairs to see her.

The room was dim and mostly empty; it seemed that even Molly and Arthur had finally given into the need to sleep. Only a healer, one Harry hadn't seen before, sat watch over Ginny's bed. Her hands were on top of the blankets and Harry sat down and took one, hoping against hope that this time she'd squeeze back. She didn't, and he looked at the healer in dismay.

The man shook his head. "Not yet," he said in answer to Harry's unspoken question. He picked up his wand. "We know the blood ritual should work, it just doesn't seem to be strong enough." He waved his wand, a rather short and stubbly one, and more of the red mist floated over her.

Harry jumped up. "I have something stronger," he said quickly. He looked around, as if expecting a team of Aurors - or at least Ron and Hermione - to be standing there to stop him. But no one else was there. The healer looked at him curiously. "Well, if anyone can figure it out, it will be you," the man said. "I'll take whatever you can give me." He lowered his voice. "She's not getting better right now," he said quietly. "No matter what we tell her parents."

Harry nodded. "I know," he said. "But I have an idea."

Slipping silently out of the Burrow, Harry hurried to the Apparition point. He could only imagine how eerie Grimmauld Place was going to be in the middle of the night, inhabited by a nearly insane house-elf who may or may not be possessed by Voldemort as well. But Harry had no choice. Taking a deep breath and thinking mostly of Ginny, he turned on the spot.


	18. Eighteen

A/N: This story is one of the first "plot heavy" fics I've written where I feel like most of the plans I made early on actually still worked when I got to the end. I really liked writing this chapter - everything I wanted to happen, plot-wise, was able to happen. Oh, and there probably should be a bit of an angst warning for several bits in the middle . . .

Grimmauld Place was much more still than Harry expected. He didn't see, hear, or feel any hint that Voldemort or Kreacher was there, and that, somehow, was even more frightening. The faster he was in and out, the sooner he could get back to Ginny. Harry ignored his disquiet and walked purposefully in through the front door, down the corridor, and up the stairs to his bedroom. He didn't even look towards the library as he walked past, but he couldn't quite keep the image of Ginny lying on the floor out of his head anyway.

Harry walked with his wand out, half expecting to be attacked any second. He didn't know what he'd do if it was Kreacher who struck, but he was sure he wouldn't kill the innocent house elf. Even if Voldemort was possessing Kreacher at the time, Harry knew that the dark wizard would be able to escape. Quirrell was the perfect example of that.

Pushing aside thoughts of how he might help Kreacher, Harry slowly opened the door to the master bedroom, relieved to see that it was as empty as the rest of the house. He went immediately to the bed and then the table next to it where he kept Hagrid's moleskin pouch in a drawer. It was perfectly safe there; the magic of it meant that only Harry could open it. He quickly pulled out the Elder Wand. If anything was powerful enough to save Ginny, this was it.

Harry sat on the bed, looking at the thing. It had come to Ginny in the Room of Requirement and he liked to think that meant the wand was somehow attuned specifically to her now. It was _meant _to heal her; he was confident of that. Of course, there had to be someone able to wield the wand to cast the proper spells. Harry wasn't sure if any of the healers were up to the task. He suspected he'd be able to control the wand, and maybe Bill too, but did either of them know enough healing magic? Sighing to himself, Harry stowed the wand in his robes and decided to worry about that later. He'd come rushing here, certain that the Elder Wand was the answer he needed to save Ginny, but back here at the site of her attack, it was too easy to doubt again. Better to get back to the Burrow and try to figure it out there, where he didn't feel like the very walls were watching him. Harry shivered, remembering his last nightmare. He had to get out of here.

He started to close up the moleskin pouch, but stopped when he felt something inside moving. He reached in and pulled out the old Snitch Dumbledore had left him in his will. Harry had been carrying it with him ever since, but had never figured out its purpose or why the man had left it. It was shaking softly now. Harry didn't stop to think what it meant, just shoved it in his pocket before leaving the room. At the door he stopped and looked back at the bed one more time. Originally, he'd planned to bring Ginny here at least once more before he . . . Harry shook the thought away. The Elder Wand had to heal Ginny first, then he could think about the proper way to say goodbye.

He was still thinking about Ginny when he got to the kitchen. The Floo was the fastest way back to the Burrow, and Harry was reaching for the tin of powder on the wide mantle when a blinding pain shot through his head. He gasped, dropping the powder and nearly falling to his knees. He could barely see past the pain but it didn't matter; the mingled cold laugh and sniveling sobs were both too familiar.

"Kreacher," he rasped in the direction of the elf's voice. "Help me." It was the closest he could do to give an order, but it wasn't enough.

"I . . . I can't, Master Harry. He got in, he got in! I couldn't help it; he's in, he's in!" The elf's voice was tortured.

Harry knew Kreacher wasn't talking about Voldemort getting into Grimmauld Place. He forced himself to straighten up and open his eyes. The house elf was standing in front of him, shaking. His face was absolutely miserable but there was none of his usual subservience in his stance. He stood ramrod straight and in his hand held a familiar wand made of yew. Harry looked around, unsurprised that no one else was there.

"You cannot see me, of course, but that doesn't matter." Voldemort's voice was calm, and held an edge of satisfaction that made Harry's blood turn to ice in his veins. "My servant will be more than enough this time. Bow, Kreacher."

Kreacher's body trembled but his back remained stiff.

"I said, BOW."

This time, Kreacher bent stiffly at the waist. He was squeezing the wand so tightly that his knuckles were white. When he stood back up, Harry could see tears in his eyes. The pupils glowed red.

Harry felt the tiniest odd surge of relief. Voldemort's plan was exactly as he and Ron and Hermione had discussed, and he couldn't help but be strangely pleased that they'd been right. Knowing what to expect made it easier somehow. There would be pain, but he also knew there was an end; he didn't have to wait or wonder or worry anymore. He felt for the Elder Wand in the pocket of his robes. He only needed a spell that would be impossible to survive. It wasn't possible to perform the Avada Kedavra on himself - that had been the first thing Harry had researched - but he knew of other spells that would work. He just needed enough intent to do so, and Harry knew that his intent to save those he loved would be more than enough. He wouldn't delay; there was nothing else to think about. He only had to give Kreacher another order, one to be carried out once Harry was dead and Voldemort gone as well.

He pulled out the wand and immediately felt the pull of Voldemort's interest in Kreacher's glance. The voice that spoke had almost none of the elf in it.

"So you think you can defeat me that way Potter, do you? Foolish boy, still making the same mistakes. You aren't nearly powerful enough to use that wand; the elf and I together will have no trouble putting you into a state where you cannot fight back. The ritual to return me to full power is nearly ready; it will be the last thing you get to see before I kill you - and this time there will be no return." Kreacher tilted his head back and laughed, but it was with Voldemort's voice. Harry's knees buckled. He had to act soon.

"Kreacher," he mumbled. He gave into the weakness and let himself slump against one of the kitchen chairs. "I know you can hear me. I have an order for you." The pain in his head increased and Harry fought the urge to vomit. He tried to speak quickly, hoping that somewhere inside, Kreacher could hear him. "When I'm gone, when I'm . . . dead . . . take this wand to the Burrow. Use it . . ." Harry's words were slurring so badly he wasn't sure Kreacher could understand him even if he was able to fight Voldemort's possession.

But Kreacher took a step forward. "Use it for what?" he asked, sounding terrified, but like himself. Almost immediately his body went rigid again.

The moment was all Harry needed. When Kreacher spoke, the pain receded enough for Harry to heave himself into a chair. "Use it to heal Ginny," he gasped, ignoring the way his heart clenched as he said her name. "They have my blood already, they just need a more powerful wand."

His instructions delivered, Harry gave into the blackness again, laying his head on the table. He only needed enough strength for one final task, and he didn't need the elf, or anyone else for it. His regret at not being able to leave Ginny a personal message was choking, but he'd die knowing that he'd saved her, and that had to be enough. He trusted that Kingsley, or whomever ended up with his will, would find the words Harry had written to the Weasleys and Teddy and Hermione and hidden in the blank section of parchment. It didn't say nearly what he'd wanted it to, but then, Harry didn't think he'd ever be able to convey everything he wanted.

Voldemort laughed again and Harry felt himself being jerked upright. It was too much like the way Voldemort had made him bow back in the graveyard, and Harry was immediately on alert. Kreacher was pointing his wand at Harry; the wizard had obviously gained better control over the elf again. Harry gripped the Elder Wand and slowly moved it to face his own heart. A suffocation spell would do it; he only needed to say the words. It was time; he hoped that Kreacher would survive and be able to carry the wand to Ginny.

But as much as Harry knew he had no other choice, mustering the courage to kill himself was not easy. His heart was beating out of his chest as if it knew how little time it had left, and the wand slipped in his sweaty palm. For a moment, Harry felt his body freeze up, and he wondered suddenly if it was the Horcrux inside him, struggling to stay alive. All of the other Horcruxes had fought their own destruction and it wasn't so irrational to think that this one might fight too. The irony was almost too much to think about - that the Horcrux itself might prevent Harry's death. He took a deep breath; he wouldn't let that happen. And then Voldemort spoke again.

"That wand won't save your girlfriend, Potter. It took me longer than it should have to understand, and I see that you still haven't gotten there." Kreacher was pacing back and forth in front of Harry's chair, his wand still shaking in his hand as it pointed at Harry.

"You lie," said Harry calmly. "The healers already have my blood, mixed with hers. I gave her protection when I prevented you from killing her at Hogwarts. They just need a more powerful wand to perform the spell." He steadied his hand and lifted the tip of the Elder Wand higher on his chest. "And once I'm dead, and you're gone too, Kreacher will easily fulfill my last order and carry the wand to the Burrow." Harry looked at the elf. The red glow seemed even brighter now, and Harry wondered if his words were penetrating at all. Kreacher's head trembled but he didn't nod. But Harry couldn't wait anymore. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

"But your blood is tainted; it cannot save your girlfriend." Voldemort's voice took on a silky tone. "You know that already, don't you? The supposed protection you gave Miss Weasley is a lie." Harry opened his eyes; Kreacher was pacing again, and twirling the wand in his hand. His shaking had stopped. "The only reason she's not dead right now is because I didn't have full control over the elf then. He didn't feel quite strongly enough about killing when he cursed her." Voldemort laughed again. "Maybe your love for her prevented the curse from finishing the job; I'll give you that." Kreacher inclined his head and the gesture was purely Voldemort. Harry didn't have to ask. The thought that had been flitting around the edges of his brain as he watched the healers fail to make Ginny better finally came to roost. Voldemort noticed.

"You got there, didn't you? It doesn't matter what wand anyone uses; your blood has too much of me inside it' it isn't pure enough to make a difference. And if you kill yourself now, it never will be." Harry couldn't have imagined Kreacher ever smirking, but somehow he managed it. Voldemort kept talking. "You intend to die with the Horcrux inside you and in doing so, you condemn the one you love as well."

Harry lowered his wand. He knew Voldemort was right; the blood he and Ginny had mixed would not be able to save her. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. It was just as he'd thought from the moment he'd first learned about the Horcrux inside him, when Dumbledore had looked at him in despair and confirmed that even he didn't know what to do. All these last weeks of research and planning and hope were for nothing. No, it was worse. If Harry had died earlier, Ginny would never have been hurt. And now that he was finally going to die, there wasn't even any way to tell her family what had happened to their daughter, to tell them that Harry had dared to love her and in return, had forced her into a state worse than death.

Harry sat numbly; for the first time he couldn't even begin to think what he needed to do. Thoughts of fighting, of yelling, spells and curses - they all eluded him as he sat in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and waited to die. Voldemort - through Kreacher - was still speaking, but Harry couldn't even bring himself to process the words. He dropped his head to his hands.

A bang on the table made him look up. "Did you hear even a word I said?" Kreacher was bearing down on him, the wand in his hand moving menacingly. Harry couldn't bring himself to dodge the sparks that flew out of the end of the wand, stinging bits of his skin. He stared at the elf.

He spoke again. "I said, there is a way to save her. Miss Weasley." Voldemort spoke dispassionately; he may have been talking about a houseplant. But it got Harry's attention. He knew it was probably a trap, but he couldn't hold back. "How?" he asked quickly.

Voldemort laughed. "How great a wizard you might have been, Harry Potter, if not for your insistence on love being the principle you followed beyond all others. It's pathetic, really, but in this case, it just might suit both of our needs."

"What is it?" Harry asked harshly. He gripped his wand.

Kreacher jerked his head. "I'm still having a bit of . . . difficulty," he said. "Convincing the elf of the advantages to be gained by assisting me. Voluntarily, of course."

Harry didn't pretend not to understand. "You need a faithful servant."

Kreacher nodded; the effect of seeing his stooped figure and yet being able to imagine it was Voldemort was dizzying. "I do. And the elf is almost ready to agree. However, neither nor I really want to wait, do we?"

Harry's head was throbbing and he felt barely strong enough to keep it upright and his eyes on the elf. "What do you want from me?" he asked weakly.

"You still seem to have some control over the elf. It's waning, but I'd rather not wait until it's done. Order him to serve me, and only me, faithfully, and you have my word that . . . afterwards . . . I will extract the blood necessary to save Miss Weasley." Voldemort almost chuckled. "It would amuse me to no end to be able to tell her how you died, unable to save her first from a fate of your own creation."

Harry knew Voldemort was lying. There was no way he'd keep any of the Weasleys alive once he'd resurrected himself. And yet, as he stared into Kreacher's red eyes, Harry couldn't help but hope. He tried to tell himself it was the wizard playing with his mind again, but he couldn't give up the thought that if he agreed, if he ordered Kreacher to sacrifice himself for Voldemort's cause, it would be enough to save Ginny. Harry rubbed at his eyes. His thinking was becoming irrational and he didn't realize it - he'd been fighting the weakness and pain that being close to Voldemort brought on for too long. All he needed to do was agree - to give the order to Kreacher to _serve The Dark Lord as his loyal servant - _and Ginny would be healed. That was all it would take. It would all be okay.

"A single order," said Voldemort. "It will take no effort at all."

Harry got shakily to his feet. Kreacher stopped pacing and stood in front of Harry, watching him carefully. He began shaking again. For moment, the red in his eyes dimmed. "Master Harry," he began.

Harry held up his hand to stop him. "It's okay, Kreacher, it's what I have to do to save Ginny, to save everyone." He held out the Elder Wand. "Take it," he said.

Kreacher's eyes gleamed again as he grasped the new wand. His shaking got worse. "Master Harry," he said again.

Harry swallowed hard. "One final order, Kreacher," he said quietly. His head was about to burst. It was only a few more words. He dropped his hands to his sides and stared pleadingly at the elf.

"Kreacher, I order you to use the Elder Wand to kill me."

Almost immediately the pain increased tenfold. Harry could feel Voldemort's surprise, followed quickly by a glimmer of fear, before he hid it. "Don't listen to him," Voldemort snarled. "Serve me."

The second of fear was all Harry needed though. The pain was overwhelming him but his voice stayed strong. The pain would be over soon anyway; he could stand it a little bit longer. "Kreacher, I order you!" he shouted with every last ounce of his strength. He only had to stay upright few more seconds; he had to make himself an easy target.

Harry closed his eyes as the peak of Voldemort's anger washed over him. He felt movement at his front and someone taking deep breaths that he recognized. His last thought was of Ginny.

The voice that spoke was shaking, but strong. It had intent behind it; it followed Harry's command.

_AVADA KEDAVRA!_

HPHPHPHP

Harry was back in King's Cross Station, which was how he knew it had worked. Kreacher's curse had been strong enough and Harry was dead. He lay on the white floor in the great white hall he'd last seen the night of the Final Battle and hoped he was right in thinking that with his own death, Voldemort had been finished too. It was very quiet. Last time he'd heard the crying of that horrible, flayed child left under a bench, and Dumbledore had explained what it meant and what had gone wrong. But now, all was still and silent.

Harry sat up and looked around, again noticing that he was naked and again having robes immediately appear. Dumbledore would likely be here soon. He'd smile sadly - Harry could imagine it - and tell him that yes, it had worked. The Horcrux in Harry was gone, and with it, Voldemort was gone too. But it was too late, this time. There was no way back, and so Harry must move on.

It should be hard to feel too much despair in the peace of this place, but somehow, Harry managed it. The only thing he'd been able to do right was finish off Voldemort. But in the process he'd left nothing but carnage and emptiness. Ginny would never recover and he'd never gotten to say goodbye, or thank you, or I love you, to any of the most important people in his life. He'd wasted too much time on hope and spent way too little on what he should have done to put his affairs in order. And now it was too late.

Harry looked around again, wondering when Dumbledore would appear. Last time, the man had given him a choice - to go back to a situation he wouldn't be able to win, or to go on. The Headmaster had referred to it as "taking a train." Harry had chosen to go back even knowing what he'd likely face. He couldn't stand the thought of not seeing them again, of not being there, no matter what the odds. And finally the odds had made themselves known.

Harry knew he wouldn't have made a different decision last time, even knowing that he'd end up back here again, and even knowing the pain he would cause with his actions. He was too selfish, he knew. Even an extra second with Ginny would have been enough to send him back. The loss of Ron and Hermione hurt too, but it came from a different place in Harry's heart. He'd unpack those feelings soon; he'd have plenty of time. But now he looked around again for Dumbledore. Why wasn't he here?

Something vibrated in the pocket of Harry's robes and he startled. These robes were not his; they'd appeared soon after he had. And yet, out of the pocket of these anonymous robes Harry pulled his old Snitch, the one he'd grabbed back in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. It had been vibrating then too, and Harry stared at it curiously. He remembered when Scrigemeour had given it too him, and how he'd managed to keep its secret from everyone but Ron and Hermione. Now he put his lips to it again, and again saw the flowing script appear across the side. I open at the close.

Harry still didn't know what it meant, but if there was going to be a close, this must be it. He rubbed his thumb across the smooth metal.

"It's over; I've defeated Voldemort and died," he said quietly. The Snitch shuddered and fell open. Lying between the two halves was a cracked black stone Harry hadn't seen in over a year. He knew immediately what it was; he would never forget Dumbledore's story of love and desire and the terrible curse that ultimately killed him. The stone was no longer cursed, and Harry knew instinctively that he'd been meant to use it much earlier. He didn't know if it would even work here, but Harry nevertheless closed his eyes and turned the stone three times in his hand. Maybe this was how he was meant to summon Dumbledore, now that Harry too was dead.

There was a rustling around him, and a chuckle that wasn't familiar but felt like it should be, and then a barking laugh that Harry knew well. But it wasn't until he heard the soft "ohhhh," of a woman's voice did Harry dare open his eyes. Dumbledore hadn't come.

Harry stared at his parents, standing and smiling at him between Sirius and Remus, and felt his heart give a leap. Without even thinking about it, he was moving, throwing himself at his mother and only at the last second thinking that she wasn't really there and he'd fall through her like smoke. But Lily's arms wrapped around Harry and held him so firmly it was if she'd been holding him all his life. He didn't know which one of them was shaking - probably both - and he only let go when the warmth of a hand on his back allowed his mother to pass him joyfully over his father as well. And then Harry hugged Sirius and Remus and felt some of the knot in his chest loosen as he leaned into his mother again.

"We didn't know if we'd get to see you," she said when they were all finally done greeting each other.

"I didn't know either," said Harry. He couldn't quite believe he was seeing them now. "I didn't do it right, the first time; I think Dumbledore intended that I get the stone earlier."

"We wouldn't have been able to touch you then," said his father.

Harry nodded, understanding. "If I'd brought you back while I was still alive." He stared hungrily at his parents, collecting every detail of expression and stance, not sure how long he'd be allowed to stay with them. His mother was looking back at him in the same way, joyful and curious at the same time. She gently touched his face.

"You have my eyes," she said. "We weren't sure if they'd change as you got older."

"I'm glad they didn't," said Harry. "And I'm glad I finally get to see for myself." His mother smiled a little wider as she contemplated him from head to toe. Harry tried not to feel self-conscious; this was his mother, after all. It must be difficult to reconcile her memories of him then and what he looked like now. Indeed, after a moment her smile turned a little sad.

"You were an adorable baby," she said softly. "But now, as a man . . ." She shook her head. "I'm so lucky to have been your mother."

Harry touched her on the arm. "You still _are_ my mother," he said. He was struck suddenly with the depth of what it had meant for her to jump in front of Voldemort's curse for him. He hadn't wanted to agree with Bill that his doing the same for Ginny wouldn't have the same effect; after all, he loved Ginny more than anyone in the world. Now he nodded in understanding; the love of a parent was different. Lily smiled again and Harry wondered what she was thinking, but then a light punch on his arm pulled him away.

His father was easier to read; he looked as proud of Harry as Sirius had always promised him James would be. He put his hands on Harry's shoulders and looked him up and down appraisingly. "Youngest Seeker in a century, eh?" he said lightly. "I wish I could have seen you play."

Harry nodded. "Me too," he managed. "Or that we could have flown together." He looked hopefully around; this place had given him robes, could it also give them brooms? It certainly was big enough for a fly. But nothing appeared. "Thank you for the Marauder's Map," he said finally. "It saved my life more than once."

"Saved your arse from detention too," said Sirius with a laugh. He looked at James. "You too are so alike in that way."

James nodded. "I can see that," he said. Like Lily, his voice became a little sad.

Harry wasn't sure, but he thought maybe the edges of the station were getting a little blurry. He spoke quickly. "So . . . where do we go now? Last time I was here, Dumbledore said I could take a train to go on. Is that what we do?"

His father looked at him in surprise. "Is that what you want?"

Harry shook his head, confused. "What I want? I'm dead, right? I don't get to pick what I want, do I?"

Instead of answering, his father reached out and ruffled Harry's hair. "You have no better luck than I do with this, I see."

"None," said Harry, content to let his father change the subject. "Do you have any tips?"

"Just that you shouldn't worry about it," said James. "Your mother always liked it a mess." He turned towards Lily with a grin. "Isn't that right?"

Lily rolled her eyes and reached up to kiss her husband. "I knew it was a hopeless case," she said. "So I focused on things I could control, like your clothing."

Everyone laughed and Harry felt a warm comfort he'd always dreamed of but had never quite been able to imagine. Without really thinking about it, he blurted, "Ginny likes my hair messy too." He paused. "Liked."

It was as though a wet blanket had been thrown over the group; his mum squeezed his shoulder, but before Harry could say another word, Sirius threw back his head and barked another laugh.

You Potter men and your redheads," he said, leaning over to cuff Harry on the arm. "I suspected something between you and Ginny even though the two of you didn't realize it yet." His eyes twinkled. "So things are going well?"

"Yes, please tell us," said Lily. "She's more than a just another girlfriend, isn't she? I can see it on your face."

"Ginny and Harry are more than just another couple," confirmed Remus. He smiled at his friends. "They remind me a lot of Lily and James, once James stopped being such an arse about everything."

Now his parents' images were getting blurry too. "I love her, and she loves me," Harry said quietly. "Or, we did." Inexplicably, he felt tears prickling at his eyes - was it possible to cry here? "But she got hurt because of me and she's never going to get better and now I'm dead and I never got the chance to say goodbye to her. Or to any of them. Or that I'm sorry." He looked pleadingly at his parents, and then at Remus and Sirius. "I should have been faster, to find a way to die. I should have destroyed Voldemort when I could do it so that no one else could get hurt." He shook his head. "But I was too late." He looked at the group and sighed. "It's time to go, I can feel it." Harry suspected he'd be saying goodbye to his parents as well.

His father looked at him seriously. "Is that what you want, Harry?"

"You said that before," he said. His mum touched his arm.

"I don't think that's what you want," she said.

"But I'm dead," Harry said. He still didn't understand what his parents meant. "And it didn't happen the way Dumbledore intended it to, with me walking to my death and voluntarily letting Voldemort kill me." He shook his head. "Instead I ordered Kreacher to do it when Voldemort thought I was going to make him become Voldemort's loyal servant." He rubbed his hand over his face. "Voldemort promised to heal Ginny if I did, and I almost believed him." He looked at his parents for reassurance. "He was lying, right? He wouldn't have healed Ginny if I did what he asked, would he?" He couldn't stop his voice from breaking at the end.

"Voldemort would have killed Ginny and the rest of her family the first moment he could," said Sirius firmly.

His father nodded. "Voldemort doesn't make deals. Ever."

His mother brushed her hand across Harry's cheek. "I wish there was time for you to tell me about Ginny," she said with a smile.

"More important that we have time to tell him why he doesn't have to stay here," said Sirius. He looked at Harry. "You want to go back to her, don't you?"

"Of course!" The words burst out of Harry before he realized it. He flushed and looked at his parents. "I mean, I love being here with you all; I've missed you every minute of my life." He took a deep breath. "But I can go back? How?"

His father chuckled. "I'm no Dumbledore, but I'd guess that sacrificing yourself to destroy Voldemort, and thinking you were destroying yourself at the same time, should do it."

"Not to mention all those blood rituals you and Ginny did," added Remus. "She has your protection, you have hers, they're intermingled. And they've created quite a strong pull for you to return, don't you think?"

"I'm not sure what to think," Harry admitted. "I just know I want to save Ginny."

"You will," said his mother firmly. "I know you'll figure out a way."

The mist was much thicker now and Harry looked from his mother and father and then to Sirius, his gaze landing finally on Remus.

"I'll take good care of Teddy," he promised. "He'll know all about his parents and how much they loved him."

Remus smiled. "I never doubted for a moment," he said.

Harry looked at his parents one last time. "I love you both so much."

They smiled back at him. "Always," his mother said, before the mist grew too thick for Harry to see anything else.


	19. Nineteen

Someone was gently wiping his face with a damp cloth. Harry lay very still, keeping his eyes closed while he tried to figure out where he was. He could tell it was dark beyond his closed lids; he was no longer in King's Cross Station and already the memory of seeing his parents felt more like a dream. He was lying on his back, on a hard floor, with his hands crossed over his stomach, and he was holding . . .

Harry opened his eyes to find Kreacher's watery brown ones staring at him. When the elf saw that Harry was awake, he stopped his ministrations and bowed solemnly. "Master Harry, you are back. How do you feel?" he asked with great formality.

Harry struggled into a sitting position. There was a dull ache in his stomach where Kreacher's killing curse had hit him and a tender spot on his shoulder, likely from hitting something as he fell. But his head was clear and he felt stronger than he had in months. He looked around, needing to be sure.

"So Voldemort is really gone then?"

Kreacher nodded, his head still bowed. "You freed me from him, Master Potter. I felt it and I saw it. He is gone, and cannot return." The elf bent even lower. "As I will be, as soon as you say so." He spoke with resignation. Harry frowned.

"Where are you going, Kreacher? Do you . . . not wish to be in my employ any longer?" Harry matched Kreacher's formality, but he wasn't sure if his question would be taken as offensive anyway.

Kreacher finally raised his head. Large tears dripped down his pointed nose as he spoke. "I . . . I failed you, Master Harry. I let that evil, dark wizard into your house, into my head. I didn't fulfill my duty to serve you and protect the ones you love." The elf's voice grew to a wail. "I nearly killed Miss Weasley, and then I did kill you!" Kreacher banged his head on the table. "I know you want to give me clothes," he said. "I will take them and you never need to see me again." The elf finished his speech with a sob before turning away from Harry.

Harry's heart jumped at the mention of Ginny, but he forced himself to focus on situation in front of him first.

"I don't blame you, Kreacher," he said firmly. "You couldn't help what Voldemort did to you. He is . . . was, the most powerful dark wizard who ever lived, and the fact that you were able to keep him from possessing you completely is what saved my life. It saved all our lives."

Kreacher shook his head. "I didn't save your life, I took it!" he cried.

"Because I ordered you to," said Harry gently. "If you hadn't been fighting Voldemort so hard in your head, you wouldn't have been able to follow that order, and we never would have been able to destroy him forever." Now that he had his bearings, Harry's urge to get to Ginny was rapidly becoming the only thing he could think about. He took a deep breath. "Kreacher, if Voldemort hadn't possessed you, if he'd chosen someone else, we never could have defeated him." Harry was careful to include the elf in his explanation. "There were no other options; I didn't even know until after I was dead that I'd be able to come back. You made that possible."

Kreacher wiped his eyes and sat up straighter. "I did?" he asked in disbelief. "I am just a house elf. I can't defeat a wizard." He looked down at Harry's hands. "I used a wand! I should never have used a wand!" He shook his head. "I gave it back to you as soon as I could."

Harry held up the Elder Wand and his own holly and phoenix feather wand, both of which Kreacher had apparently put in his hands while he was unconscious. "And you used it better than many wizards could have," he promised. He looked down at the Elder Wand, considering. It was still the most powerful wand in existence, and Harry worried he still needed as much power as he could get. He bit his lip; had he reassured Kreacher enough?

Apparently he had. Kreacher stood up and pulled Harry to his feet. "You have to go to Miss Weasley now," he said briskly.

Harry looked towards the Floo. "I'll have to Apparate; I dropped the Floo powder. He started moving in the direction of the front door.

Kreacher shook his head. "Or you can come with me," he said. He took Harry's arm and snapped his fingers and the kitchen of Grimmauld Place evaporated.

HPHPHPHP

They reappeared not at the Burrow's distant Apparition point, but just outside the back door, and Harry was grateful for the swiftness of house elf magic. At first he could not understand why it was so quiet, and his stomach swooped with fear. Maybe he'd been wrong and Voldemort wasn't really gone; maybe he'd come here instead, as soon as Harry died. But then a pinkish glow in the sky caught his eye and Harry realized it was the sun, just starting to rise. He'd left for Grimmauld Place in the middle of the night; everyone was probably still fast asleep. He took a deep breath before quietly pushing open the door. Maybe he could have Ginny back in time for breakfast.

The Burrow's kitchen looked much as it had when Harry had left it. He couldn't believe it had only been a few hours. But one change caught his eye immediately; every hand on the Weasley family clock had moved, and it was this fact more than any other that finally convinced Harry. The spot for 'Mortal Peril' had disappeared completely, and now all the names crowded around the word _Home_.

Harry rushed into the sitting room. Molly had joined the healer there; she was gently brushing Ginny's hair but jumped up at the sight of Harry and Kreacher. Her gaze traveled back and forth between Harry and the house elf.

"Harry?" Molly asked. She dabbed at her eyes with a cloth she'd been holding. "What happened?" She pulled out her wand.

"I'm okay," Harry said quickly. He dropped to Ginny's side, momentarily surprised to see that she was unchanged from when he'd last seen her. With everything that had happened in the past hours, he realized he'd almost expected to see Ginny sitting up and waiting for him, a blazing smile on her face. He touched her cheek, thinking of his mum's confidence in him. "I'm okay," he said again. "It's all okay." It wasn't yet, not until Ginny was better, but Harry didn't want to take the time to explain. "We need Bill though," he said. He looked at the healer, who was wearing the robes of someone only newly qualified. "And the best healer at St. Mungo's - someone with expertise in serious curses."

Molly gave him a scared look, and Harry realized that she still believed Ginny's injuries were from Kreacher's knife. "Cursed?" she asked. "Who . . .? Never mind; you'll explain later." She nodded and looked at the young healer. "Can you get someone?"

By the time Bill and the senior healer had arrived - joined by Kingsley and several Aurors and Bill's colleague Tulip, Ron and Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys had amassed in the sitting room as well. Hermione gave Harry a curious look. "The clock . . .?" she asked quietly.

Harry nodded, unable to feel any sense of relief yet. "I'll explain after," he promised.

Without preamble, he held out his arm to Bill and the healer. "We need to make a new mixture of my blood and Ginny's," he said. pulling the Elder Wand out of his robes. "And we need to use this for the spell."

It was clear who in the room recognized what Harry was holding. There were murmurs from several corners and Bill gave a low whistle. "Who is going to do it?" he asked. "That's not a wand most people would be able to use." He looked at the senior healer, who was thinking hard.

"You and I should each take a turn, with time for her recovery in between," he said to Bill. "We should be able to wield it, although we should practice on something inanimate first." He looked at Harry. "You too; I suspect you know how to use that wand better than most."

Harry wasn't sure he agreed that he had the skill or knowledge to perform the healing spell on Ginny, but he couldn't refuse. He held out his arm again. "You need my blood first."

"Why do you need to give more blood, Harry? I thought you did already." Arthur had been watching silently, his arm around his wife. Now he leaned forward with concern.

Harry looked swiftly at Ron and Hermione. He wasn't ready to explain what had happened to anyone but his closest friends, and he didn't even want to tell them until after things with Ginny were stable.

Fortunately, Ron understood. "They'll be time for questions later," he said firmly to his father. "Let Harry take care of Ginny first."

Arthur opened his mouth as if to protest and then closed it again and nodded. He looked down at his daughter and took a deep breath. "Do what you need," he said.

Kreacher had been very quiet until now. He looked around the room, his eyes finally resting on Harry. "You need the same knife," he said, pulling the silver blade out of the pocket in the tea towel he wore. Across the room, Kingsley swore.

"How did you get that back?" he asked. "Isn't that the . . ." He stopped and looked over at Ginny.

"It has powerful magic," said Kreacher simply. "It's what you must use."

"Wait." One of the Aurors was frowning at the elf. "How do you know he's not still under the Imperius Curse?" He pulled out his wand. "How do we know that's even Harry Potter?" He looked like it wouldn't take must provocation for the man to start firing curses.

Ron came and stood beside Harry. "You're going to have to tell everyone at least something first," he said quietly. "Or do you want me to just hex them all? I could probably take out most of the room before they realized what's going on, but Kingsley might be tricky."

Harry gave Ron a grateful smile. "No hexing," he said. "At least, not yet." Ron was right anyway. As desperate as Harry was feeling to heal Ginny - and he now understood it was nothing in comparison to how her parents felt - everyone deserved an explanation first. He sat back down at Ginny's bedside and took her hand.

Harry kept the story as brief as possible, both because there were only a few he wanted to share everything with and also out of respect for Kreacher. He told the group that Kreacher had been fighting Voldemort for weeks, without mentioning that he'd actually been possessed, and that Harry had succeeded in ordering Kreacher to kill him, so to destroy the last Horcrux tethering Voldemort to life. Harry himself had been able to return because of the inter-connectedness of Harry and Ginny's blood, but he'd realized that that blood was tainted by Harry having given it while was still a Horcrux. He stopped talking then, and took the cup of water Molly handed him, drinking it slowly so he didn't have to look anyone in the eye or answer other questions. He knew the holes in his story were probably obvious to many in the room, but he couldn't go on. Memories of his parents were swirling in his head and Harry wanted to first person who heard that story to be Ginny. He held out his arm again.

HPHPHP

Two hours later, it was obvious that the healing spell using the new mixture of Harry and Ginny's blood was working. The senior healer had performed the first spell and then an hour later, Bill had done. Ginny's color and breathing had improved each time and she'd begun moving restlessly on the bed. Once, her eyes had opened and she'd stared fearfully around until they came to rest on Harry. A small smile played on her lips then and she'd calmed before closing her eyes again.

Now it was Harry's turn to do the spell. He was relieved that most of the people who'd been rotating in and out of the Burrow were elsewhere right now; only Bill and the healer and Ginny's parents were in the room when Harry gripped the Elder Wand and said the words to make the red mist settle over Ginny again.

HPHPHPHP

Ginny's dreams had been full of Harry, and so when she opened her eyes to see him peering anxiously down at her, she was confused. Moments ago, he'd been naked, hovering over her on shaking arms, and the look on his face had been quite different. Now he searched her face as if he wasn't quite sure what he was going to find, or maybe that what he was seeing was wrong.

"Harry," she said, and was shocked to hear the weak rasp of her voice. Something _was_ wrong; Ginny was suddenly aware that her entire body felt like it was filled with sand. But inexplicably, Harry visibly relaxed when she said his name. He touched her cheek.

"Ginny," he said, the relief palpable in his tone. He didn't actually say _you're okay_, but Ginny could hear the intent. She turned her head.

"Where am I . . . the sitting room?" she asked, still dismayed that her voice was so weak. A man in healer's robes hovered over her.

"How do you feel, Miss Weasley?" he asked.

"I'm . . . I'm not sure," she said, struggling to sit up. It was disconcerting to have a conversation while lying flat on her back.

Harry slipped his arm under her back and raised her up while her mum hurried forward and put two pillows behind her to lean on. Now she knew something terrible had happened; her mother looked as if she hadn't slept in days and her father's face was tight and drawn. Ginny froze. _Who else had died? _But Harry was giving her a small smile and adjusting the pillows behind her before sitting back down and taking her hand. He was watching her carefully, and Ginny realized belatedly that whatever had happened must have happened to her. She tried to remember, but her brain felt fuzzy and the sitting up had made her dizzy. She closed her eyes.

"Ginny?" Harry sounded worried again and she forced herself to look at him.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I got a little woozy."

"Do you want to lie back down?" Harry was already moving to grab the pillows. Ginny shook her head, determined to stay upright so she could see what was going on.

"I'm okay," she promised. Someone - Bill it turned out, handing her a cup of water and she drank gratefully, feeling her head clear a bit. When she spoke again, her voice was a little more steady.

"What happened?" she asked, looking at Harry.

His face was guarded. "What do you remember?"

Ginny had to stop and think. Harry's eyes were exhausted and he had stubble around his chin and jaw that hadn't been there the last time she'd seen him - _on his birthday?_ "What day is it?" she asked.

Ginny saw Harry look at the healer and then Bill. They both nodded and he turned back to her. "August 4th," he admitted.

Ginny gave a start and then winced as the world tilted again. She closed her eyes. "I'm okay," she said again. "Just need a minute."

Harry's hand squeezed hers and she managed to squeeze back. "Your birthday," she said, keeping her eyes shut. She swallowed, the images coming back to her. "I was upset." Ginny couldn't quite remember why but she had the sense that it had been something important. She opened her eyes to see Harry looking at her with a familiar expression of guilt on his face. She reached up to touch his cheek. "You don't have to tell me right now," she said, meaning it.

"I know," Harry said quietly. "But I will . . . I just don't want to upset you more, while you're still . . ." He gestured at the bed and then looked at the healer. The man nodded.

"I will have to examine her again, of course, but for now I think Miss Weasley has made a remarkable recovery, and that she doesn't need my services for the time being." He smiled. "I'll just slip into the kitchen and have some of that delicious looking luncheon you put out, Molly."

"Yeah, you don't need me right now either." Bill leaned down and gave her forehead a kiss. "Fleur and I will be back later, okay?"

Ginny nodded. "Thanks, Bill. I love you." She wasn't sure what role her brother had played in events but she sensed it had been significant. He squeezed her shoulder.

"Love you too," he said.

And then her parents were both there and Ginny could tell her mum was trying not to cry, but in a good way. She hugged them both, holding on for longer than she might have otherwise. It felt like she'd been away from them for a long, long time. When they broke apart, she could see Harry watching, and the expression on his face was one Ginny didn't think she'd ever seen before. It was gone before she could try to understand, and then her parents hugged Harry and her dad clapped him on the back and they both said _thank you_, and Ginny felt dizzy again, trying to figure out what she'd forgotten.

The light in the room dimmed as Harry came and sat beside her again. "We can wait to talk until you're feeling stronger," he said. He brushed the hair off her face. "We have plenty of time; I don't want to rush you."

There was an odd timbre in his voice and Ginny looked at Harry carefully for a long moment. Some of the cobwebs cleared.

"We have time?" she whispered.

Harry nodded, and she could see the joy on his face even as he tried to stay solicitous of her health. "All the time in the world," he said.

Ginny tried to get her head around that. She wanted to think she understood what Harry was saying, but there were still gaps in her memory. She wrinkled her forehead in thought. She knew she could just ask Harry to tell her everything, and he would, but she wanted to get there herself. Finally she landed on the last moments she'd seen him on his birthday.

"You told me the only way to defeat Voldemort was to sacrifice yourself." Somehow Ginny knew it was okay to say the name again.

Harry nodded cautiously. "I did," he agreed. He gave a small grimace. "You didn't like that."

"Of course I didn't," she responded. "I thought we'd made it quite clear back in May that self-harm was not an option."

"It was not an option for you," said Harry gently. He took both of her hands in his. Ginny scooted over on the bed and after a moment, Harry sat down next to her. She leaned into his side and heard him give a tiny sigh.

"It got to the point where I didn't think there was any other choice." Harry spoke quietly but resolutely. "And I didn't want to prolong things for so long that he'd figure out a way to come back or that he'd be able to hurt the people I love." Harry's voice grew tortured. "And I was nearly too late; he almost managed to kill you anyway."

Ginny remembered then. She recalled finally knowing for sure Harry's plan and the moment she'd recognized in her gut that they'd exhausted all other possibilities. And then she'd run off instead of staying with him and confronting the horror together. She twisted her hands.

"It's my fault," she said. "If I'd been the person . . . the _girlfriend_ you needed, I wouldn't have left you. I knew you had no choice, that you hadn't made the decision lightly and yet, I couldn't handle it." She twisted on the bed to look Harry in the face. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm sorry I couldn't stand hearing the truth even though I knew it had to be that way. I'm sorry I made it harder on you, and that I wasn't brave enough to stay and talk, and I'm sorry I put myself in so much danger that I suspect you had to come save me and I'm sorry . . . what are you doing?"

Harry stopped her rant by leaning in and giving her a soft kiss. When he pulled back, a small smirk played about his lips. "The irrational guilt is my thing, remember?" he said. He kissed her again. "All things considered, I think you handled the moment better than I deserved; I should have been talking about it with you all along." His eyes grew serious. "If I had been, you wouldn't have had to run off to Grimmauld Place.

Ginny gave a dramatic sigh. "Let's call the irrational guilt thing even," she said. "Okay?"

Harry nodded and stuck out his hand for her to shake. "Okay."

Ginny smiled and leaned back against the pillows. "You'd better tell me how you managed to defeat him then, given that we agree that there was absolutely no hope at all." She cocked her head at him. "You did defeat him, right?"

Harry nodded, and the smile he'd been trying to hold back grew wider. "I did."

This time it was Ginny who leaned in, and after giving him a kiss as gentle as the one he'd given her, put her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him closer. "Tell me," she said.

And Harry did, without leaving anything out. He began with his discovery of her lying bloody and nearly dead and Grimmauld Place, and Ginny told him how it had taken her too long realize that Kreacher's behavior was off. They talked about the blood wards and how she didn't get better and Harry's thought to use the Elder Wand. It was only when he described ordering Kreacher to kill him that Ginny had to stop him for a moment. She shook her head.

"I can't believe you were able to do that," she said. It was one thing to talk about it, or to know what Harry had to do, but when Ginny tried to imagine what it must have felt like for Harry to stand there in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and order his house elf to kill him she couldn't. She traced the spot on his stomach where the curse had struck. "Three times," she said softly. "You've survived the killing curse three times. No one else has even survived one."

Harry shook his head. "One person has," he said, lightly touching the spot on her chest. Ginny shrugged. "It's not the same; Kreacher didn't mean to kill me."

Harry leaned down and replaced his hand with his lips, kissing along the edge of Ginny's pajama top. "I thought this wasn't a competition," he said. He undid a button. "And anyway, I haven't told you the good part."

Ginny shivered. "Does the good part involve you getting inside my pajamas in the sitting room when any of my family could walk in?"

Harry moved his lips to her neck. "That's later," he mumbled. He kissed up to her jaw before pulling away and turning to face her. "I talked to my parents."

"What?" Ginny knew that Harry had seen echoes of his mother and father when he'd fought Voldemort in the graveyard, but something in his voice made her know this was different. She sat up, all thoughts of Harry's lips and hands forgotten. "Where were you?"

"I think I was the same place I saw Dumbledore, the last time I died." Harry spoke with so much nonchalance that Ginny couldn't help but laugh. "I hope you aren't making it a regular visit," she said.

Harry shook his head. "I'm done with that place," he said. His voice grew a little shaky. "I got to hug my mum and dad."

And then Ginny understood the look she'd seen on Harry's face when he'd watched her with her parents. Something she took for granted he'd just gotten to do for the first - for the only - time. She bit the inside of her lip to keep the threatened tears in check; this was Harry's story, not hers. He noticed though, and wiped away the tear that escaped down her cheek. "I told them about you," he said softly. "I'm so glad I got to do that."

And then Ginny gave up and cried for real. Harry pulled her into his lap and she felt him shaking too, and brushing his hand down her back and through her hair while his breathing slowed. "They would have loved you," he finally said. "I'm sure of that, even though I only got to know them for a few minutes." He chuckled. "Sirius joked about the 'Potter men and their redheads."

Ginny pulled back and looked at him. "Sirius was there too?" She knew that in some ways, Harry's loss of his godfather hurt more than even that of his parents; or at least, that it was more raw, and that Harry still harbored guilt about it. But he looked only content as he nodded.

"Remus too. Not Tonks, but I guess that makes sense. I didn't know her nearly as well." He brushed the hair away from Ginny's face again. "I think my mum wanted to ask me a million questions. My dad would have liked to talk Quidditch all day." He smiled in reminiscence. "It would have been brilliant to be able to fly with him."

"That would have been amazing," she agreed. Ginny was glad to see that Harry wasn't feeling maudlin about seeing his parents. She didn't think he was hiding his feelings - the two of them were well past that sort of nonsense - but she knew the experience must have been jarring. He seemed to guess what she was thinking.

"It was a gift, to see them," he said. "And I didn't waste one second of it." He shifted Ginny in his lap and rested his cheek against her head. "All the time in the world wouldn't have been enough, but I knew it wasn't right for me to stay there. I felt that." Harry kissed her hair. "I knew what I wanted to come back for."

Ginny moved then, to find Harry's lips with hers, and they didn't talk for a long while after that.

Eventually the rest of the world intruded. They'd done not much more than kiss and touch softly over their clothes, but Ginny was exhausted by the time the healer tactfully sent his Patronus into the room to announce that he needed to conduct an examination. After that, Ginny was happy to see Ron and Hermione and the rest of her family and equally glad to let Harry answer all of their questions and make all the explanations. Kreacher went back to Grimmauld Place, likely to scrub the entire building from top to bottom, and when the sun was just starting to dip below the horizon Harry helped Ginny up to her room, where she'd been given clearance to finally sleep in her own bed. He insisted on staying there with her, on the camp bed Hermione usually used, and no one objected. Indeed, Hermione and Ron were rather blatantly delighted. Ginny didn't expect that she and Harry would do anything, and she was right. He kissed her gently and tucked her under her covers and although she'd wanted to stay awake to talk some more, she found herself unable to keep her eyes open.

"S-sorry," she yawned in Harrys' direction, sinking into her pillow.

He laughed softly and dimmed the lights further. "Good night, Ginny. I love you."

HPHPHPHP

Harry spent the first few days after Ginny woke up feeling incredulous at how quickly things had gone from absolutely horrible and bleak and hopeless to nearly perfect. It wasn't something he was able to wrap his head around, especially with Ginny still not back to her full strength. He could tell Ginny didn't want to admit how weak she still felt - getting out of bed to take her meals at the table, insisting on participating in meetings with Kingsley and the Aurors - but when she fell asleep in the middle of lunch she finally agreed to spend more time recovering on the sofa. That suited Harry just fine. After a year on the run and then months more of danger and failure, he was more than content to sit for hours holding Ginny's hand while she slept, letting his thoughts wander. When Ron brought him a Pensieve, Harry removed the memories of seeing his parents and watched them over again, first alone, and then with Ginny.

When they rose together out of the basin, still holding hands, Harry was filled with a sense of immense peace. He carefully tucked the vial with the memories into a soft padded box Hermione had made for him and then slipped it into his moleskin pouch before turning to Ginny.

"Someday, we'll be able to show our children who their Potter grandparents were," he said solemnly. Ginny didn't look at all surprised at Harry's pronouncement. She nodded in agreement.

"I'm glad for it," she said, leaning in to give him a kiss.

On August 8, while Ginny slept, Harry helped Molly plan her birthday celebration. She'd sent Ron and Hermione to the garden to renew the growth charms on the flowers and George and Percy had been joined by Lee and Angelina outside, where they were deep in discussion about _proper decorations for Ickle Ginnkins' coming of age._

"I'm relived Percy's with them," she'd confided in Harry as he lay a blanket over her while she snuggled in on the sofa. "I'm counting on him to keep some of the more wild ideas in check."

"We'd probably need at least three of Percy then," he joked.

So it was just Harry and Molly in the kitchen, him listening while she prattled on about the various dishes she might prepare. He knew she didn't really need him to help plan the menu and so he wasn't surprised when she put down the family recipe cards she'd been consulting and gave him a watery look.

"It was harder for me than it should have been to let Ginny fight," she said. She began idly folding the napkins that were stacked on the table. "I didn't like the idea of any of my children putting themselves into danger, of course, but Ginny . . ." Molly shook her head. "It shouldn't have mattered that she was a girl, or the youngest, but it did." She frowned at the napkin - it was rather uneven - and pointed her wand at it instead.

Harry watched the cloth twist in the air until it fell back to the table in a neat little bundle that looked like a flower. Molly nodded in satisfaction before she spoke again.

"I felt better knowing that you were looking out for her." She picked up another napkin.

Harry spoke carefully. "She got into trouble because of me," he said. "Especially recently, but even before." He assumed this wasn't news to Molly but he didn't want to tell her too much about just how often Ginny had been hurt, or otherwise in peril, because she'd been with Harry.

Molly nodded. "And she lived because of you, too," she said simply. Then she shrugged. "She's a Weasley, and a Prewett, and we've always fought on the side of good. I wouldn't expect my daughter to be any different, whether she was in love with you or not. But because she is in love with you . . . and you with her, I always knew she was just a bit safer." Molly had finished folding the napkins and moved on to refilling the salt and pepper shakers. Harry tried to absorb what she was saying. It was the opposite of what he'd always thought about his relationship with Ginny. He'd broken up with her because it was the only way he knew to keep her safe. She'd marked herself as Voldemort's foe because of her love for Harry. He couldn't believe what her mother was telling him, that Ginny was better off because of him.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure . . ." he began.

Molly put her hand on top of his on the table. "Well, I am," she said briskly. "We lost Fred, and don't think I don't realize that any of my other children could have gone that way just as quickly." She picked up one of the folded napkins and wiped her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was fierce. "There are at least a half-dozen times I can think of - and probably more I don't know - that Ginny could have died but she didn't. And maybe some of it was luck, and i know some of it was her skill, but I also know that a lot of it was because of you. Not only because you protected her, but because you made her less reckless."

Harry bowed his head, overwhelmed at the show of gratitude. His first instinct was to continue to protest, but then he heard Ginny's voice quite clearly in his head, telling him that they both had to give up their irrational guilt over putting the other in danger. He supposed that went for the rest of the Weasleys too. He grabbed one of the napkins for himself.

"Sorry," he muttered as it unfolded. "I'll fix it."

Molly laughed. "Leave the decorating to me," Harry. "Your job is to go be with my daughter; I think she's awake."

He nodded, but before getting up from the table he stopped. "I got to see my parents," he said quietly. "When I was . . . gone." He took a deep breath. "I told them about Ginny, and I told Ginny I wished she could have had the chance to meet them." He looked at Molly and gave her a small smile. "I wish they could have met you too, and Arthur. I know how grateful they would be." Harry couldn't say any more; he was rarely so open with anyone besides Ginny.

Molly stopped her folding. "I'm grateful to them," she said softly. "I didn't know them, but I heard plenty." She looked Harry in the eye. "You are the very best of Lily and James, Harry, and that's a very good thing to be."

There wasn't anything else to say after that. Molly shoo'ed Harry out of the kitchen and begin fixing the napkins again. He gave her one final smile before going into the sitting room.

Ginny _was_ awake; Harry was pleased to realize that her need for rest was getting less and less, and after she'd had something to eat they took a walk to the garden. "I think your mum wants us all out here to help de-gnome later," he said. "They've gotten really bad."

"They had a long time to themselves with no one bother them," said Ginny. She was skipping a little when she walked; a sure sign she was feeling better. "It's going to be a surprise when we all show up."

"Hopefully I can manage to escape unscathed this time," said Harry. He held up his thumb. "I still have the scar from where one bit me."

Ginny laughed. "The irony of you complaining about a gnome bite scar," she said, touching him lightly on the chest.

Harry shrugged. "It's nice to have something so mundane to think about," he admitted. He stopped suddenly. "That really is my biggest worry right now," he said, realization hitting him. He shook his head. "All these last months I kept thinking about it - what we'd be doing if Dumbledore's original plan had worked as he'd wanted. He turned to face Ginny. "It feels even better than I imagined and I'm not even used to the idea yet."

She put her arms around him. "I'd like to help you get used to the idea."

Harry looked down at her. Four days of rest and her mum's cooking had Ginny looking close to normal again. Her eyes were bright with mischief and when she pressed her body against his, Harry felt himself react. She noticed, of course, and her grin widened. "I think I know one other thing you have to worry about," she said with a smirk.

Harry pushed himself against her. "Not so much a worry as a challenge," he said. He thought for a minute. "Would it be odd to go to . . . I mean, we can figure out somewhere else," he said quickly. "But . . ."

"We should go to Grimmauld Place." Ginny finished his thought.

Harry tilted her head up and looked at her carefully. "Are you sure?"

Ginny nodded resolutely. "We have to go back at some point," she said. "Best to get it over with." Her voice grew a little coy. "Especially for something as important as multiple orgasms." There was no hiding the eagerness in her voice.

Harry didn't hesitate. "Race you to the Apparition point," he said.

HPHPHPHP

Despite Ginny's certainty, Harry knew that arriving at Grimmauld Place was a little odd for them both. He'd taken her side-along, and they balanced together on the top step for a long moment before Harry unlocked the door and carefully walked inside. Ginny followed hesitantly, and once the door was closed behind them, looked around, taking a slow, deep breath. Harry watched cautiously, ready to whisk them both out of there at the first sign of real distress.

"I'm okay," she said, making a show of looking all around. When Harry raised his eyebrows she held up her hands. "I promise," she said. "It felt a little weird for a minute but I'm already feeling better. She took in a deep breath. "It actually smells good," she said. "Like Kreacher baked something."

"That's because I did, Miss Weasley."

Harry jumped at the voice and Ginny shuddered next to him. He masked it quickly. "Kreacher," he said, turning to look at the elf. "I'm glad you're here." Harry _was_ glad, sort of. Having Kreacher back to his usual self and activities helped banish some of the eeriness of being back at Grimmauld Place. The house elf had a bit of flour on his nose and a stain that looked like chocolate on his tea towel. Harry inhaled. "Smells delicious," he said. At the same time, Harry hoped that whatever Kreacher was baking would keep him either tied up in the kitchen for a while, or, better yet, off to the stores for more ingredients. "Umm, do you have a lot more to do?" Next to him, Ginny giggled.

Kreacher shook his head. "No Master Harry, I just took the buns out of the oven. Your timing is perfect. You and Miss Weasley can come down to the kitchen and have some while they are still warm." He snapped his fingers and a bucket and feather duster appeared at his feet. "I'll just be upstairs cleaning; I haven't dusted your bedroom since yesterday, or your bathroom since this morning." He picked up his supplies. "I'm airing out all the beds right now." Kreacher turned towards the stairs, humming to himself.

Next to Harry, Ginny made a small sound that was half giggle and half sigh. He supposed they could figure somewhere else to go to be alone, but his mind was blank at the moment, still focused on the image he'd been holding of Ginny lying naked on top of the wide, soft bed he knew was just above where they stood now.

"Uhh, Kreacher?" he said quickly.

Kreacher turned around. "Yes, Master Harry? Would you like me to start with the windows in your room instead? I haven't cleaned them since last night."

"I'm sure they still look great," Harry said. "Actually, I'd prefer if you'd, umm, just make up the bed in the master bedroom. As quickly as possible."

Kreacher frowned. "But the mattress has only been airing for three hours," he said. "It really needs another five or six." He peered closer at Harry. "Are you feeling okay, Master Harry? Do you need to lie down?"

"I'm feeling well, Kreacher, thank you," said Harry carefully, well aware that if he suggested otherwise the elf would probably want to play nursemaid. "I'm just tired. All the excitement of the last week, you know. And there are a lot of people at the Burrow. I thought this might be a nice place to have a kip." He gave a tiny shrug. "And Ginny too," he added casually.

Kreacher nodded knowingly. "Of course, Master Harry," he said. "You'd be wanting a quiet place to close your eyes. And Miss Weasley too." He put dow his bucket. "I'll go make up the beds now, then. The one in the master bedroom and I think Master Sirius' room has aired out the longest. Miss Weasley will be quite comfortable there."

"Just the master is fine, Kreacher," said Harry firmly.

"But there is only one bed in there," said Kreacher. His eyes grew wide. "Are you and Miss Weasley planning to share?" He shook his head. "It's no trouble. I'll get both rooms ready."

Harry didn't know if Kreacher was really shocked or if he was putting on an act to voice his disapproval but at the moment, he really didn't care. With Ginny shaking with silent laughter next to him, all Harry really wanted was to feel that shaking while they were lying together on the bed that Kreacher had yet to make up. He threw up his hands. "Fine," he said. "Make them all up if you want, but we're only using one" Inspiration struck. "And then I'd like you to go to Andromeda's house and see if she needs any help with Teddy." Despite the fact that Andromeda had once been formally excommunicated from the Black family, Kreacher's change of attitude included the way he treated her and Teddy as well. Now the elf bowed deeply.

"It would be my pleasure," he said formally.

Ten minutes later Harry and Ginny were finally, thankfully, alone upstairs in the master bedroom. Ginny tugged insistently at the spread covering the bed before it finally came loose, laughing as the sudden loss of tension nearly knocked her off her feet. Harry came up behind and caught her at the last moment, and then didn't put her down, holding her against him and running his hands down her front.

"Looks like Kreacher was doing everything he could to keep us out of the bed," she said breathlessly. She leaned back into Harry and sighed.

"It wouldn't have mattered; I would have been with you on the bare mattress if I had to," said Harry roughly. He reached down and grabbed the bottom of Ginny's shirt to pull it over her head. She bent over to push off her shorts, pushing her bum against his erection as she did so. Harry groaned and grabbed her hips.

"You did that on purpose, right?" he asked. He slipped his hands into the front of her knickers.

"I hope so," Ginny said. She was still facing away from him and when she stood up she dropped her head back onto his shoulder. Harry teased her with his fingers and she immediately started writhing against him. "I'm not going to last long," she mumbled.

"I thought that's usually my line," Harry joked. He took his hands out of Ginny's knickers and suddenly scooped her up in his arms to carry her over to the bed. She crawled up to get under the covers while Harry pulled off his own clothes, too impatient to wait for Ginny to do it for him. There was a time and place for slow seduction but this wasn't it, a fact he knew Ginny agreed with when she reached under the blankets and wiggled for a minute before tossing her knickers on the floor.

It struck Harry then that what he'd told her the day she'd woken up was really true; they had all the time in the world, and nothing that they needed distracting from. He could spend hours getting to know Ginny's body and if they didn't show up for dinner, no one would worry about what might have happened. They could enjoy as much foreplay as they wanted. And yet . . .

Ginny was looking at him expectantly, her expression as needing as he imaged his was. Before Harry could move to get under the covers with her, Ginny sat up and pulled him onto the bed. He fell awkwardly, face landing in her lap, and she made a sound of apology.

"Oops, I didn't mean to do that," she said, as Harry sat up and made a show of rubbing his nose. He smirked.

"You meant to do it without the blanket covering all your important bits, right?" Without waiting for an answer, Harry pulled off said blanket and covered Ginny's body with his. She sighed and then thrust as his erection found the space between her legs.

The mood between them slowly changed. It slowed and quieted but became no less intense as the joking stopped and Harry bent his head towards Ginny. She spread her legs open and Harry immediately moved in that direction, tasting and teasing with his lips and tongue until Ginny cried out his name. He rested his head on the inside of her thigh while her breathing slowed, enjoying the fact of denying himself what he really wanted to do.

"I told you I wouldn't last long." Ginny's voice was content but not languid; she wasn't nearly done. Harry looked up at her. "You aren't done, are you?" he confirmed.

"Not even close," Ginny agreed. "Please make me climax again."

"Only if I get to have one myself this time," said Harry. He raised himself on his arms until they were face to face again. "I'm about to explode here."

Ginny slipped her hand down between them. "I can feel that," she said cheekily. Without taking her hand off, she guided him inside.

Harry let out a grunt of pleasure. "Now I'm the one who won't last long," he said. "Not this time." He began to rock.

"Let yourself go, love," Ginny said softly. She pulled his head down to kiss him. "We can take our time later."

Harry was up on his arms as he thrust, and reached down to fondle Ginny's clit. "I haven't even had a chance at your breasts," he agreed.

She arched towards him. "You can wash them in the shower," she promised. "Right now, please just keep doing . . . fuck . . . keep doing that.

Hearing Ginny swear pushed Harry up to the edge. He froze, fully inside her, trying to draw out the sensation, but it was no use. Ginny grasped his bum and held her against him and Harry groaned out his climax, still moving his fingers on Ginny until she tightened her legs around him. Harry collapsed on top of her. It had been fast, but the speed was born of their want, not because they'd been carving out precious minutes, not knowing if they'd get the chance again.

"Am I heavy?" Harry mumbled against her neck. "I can move."

In response, Ginny tightened her hands on his backside. "Don't you dare," she warned him. "I love the feeling of you still inside me, after."

Harry loved it too. Like with their choice to make love quickly, being able to lie tangled together just because they wanted to was an indulgence he wanted to learn to get used to. He thought of something Ginny had said earlier. "You want to take a shower here later?" he asked sleepily.

"Ummhmm," she agreed. "Since Kreacher's apparently scrubbed the bathroom a dozen times in the past day."

"Still isn't enough," chuckled Harry. He propped himself up on his forearms. "Making love to you a dozen times isn't enough either."

"In one day?" Ginny raised her eyebrows.

Harry pulled out and rolled onto his side, pulling Ginny close. "Maybe it would take two at first," he amended. "But we can work up to it." He looked at her, suddenly concerned. "Are okay now, though?" he asked. "Was that all too tiring for you? I don't want your mum to accuse me of impeding your recovery or anything."

"I think you just helped my recovery immensely, Harry," said Ginny with a laugh. "I'll have to tell the healer that."

"A prescription for sex," Harry said thoughtfully. "You might be onto something." He got out of bed. "I need the loo, be right back," he said. It was rather nice having it attached to the bedroom, no need to put on any clothing. He could feel Ginny's eyes on him as he walked across the room and felt himself twitch. He subtly adjusted himself and heard Ginny chuckle behind him. Apparently he wasn't subtle as he'd thought.

"Ready to go again, Potter?" she asked lazily. Harry twitched more intensely.

"I am, are you, Weasley?" he called over his shoulder.

"I'll be waiting right here," she promised.

Harry hurried in the loo, not feeling sleepy at all anymore. He was washing his hands when he heard Ginny yelp in surprise. He rushed out of the bathroom - cursing himself for not bringing his wand - and stopped short.

Lined up in front of the bed were a number of shining Patronuses, seemingly waiting quietly for something. He saw Ron's terrier, Hermione's otter, Arthur's weasel, and even George's monkey. Ginny was staring at them and then looked at Harry with wide eyes. "They can't see us, can they?"

"I certainly hope not," Harry muttered. He skittered around the bear on the end - Molly's Patronus - and dove under the covers next to Ginny. His arrival seemed to be what the figures were waiting for, for they all looked to the silvery figure in the middle, which, Harry realized with a sinking feeling, was Bill's cheetah. It nuzzled the peacock standing next to it before speaking.

"Hope you're enjoying yourselves, Harry and Ginny. " The cheetah spoke deliberately - and rather suggestively - to each of them. Harry's stomach dropped. "Mum just wanted you to know that dinner will be ready in an hour, and that she expects you both at the Burrow before then. Hopefully you'll have worked up quite an appetite." The cheetah very nearly leered at them and Harry peered closer.

"That's not Ron's terrier," he said suddenly. "Its ears are too long."

"And that is not my father's Patronus either," said Ginny. "Or my mum's." She looked back and forth. "Only . . . George's looks right." She shook her head. "Wanker," she muttered.

Harry let out a sigh of relief and picked up his wand. "Back where you all came then," he said, shooting sparks at the silvery figures and watching them dissolve. Ginny crawled into his lap. "We need to think of a way to get him back," she said.

Harry was suddenly much less interested in getting revenge and much more interested in all the places Ginnys' skin was touching his. He started moving his hands over some of those places, pleased when she shivered.

"Later," he said, leaning down to kiss her. "If there is any truth that we are really expected back for dinner in less than an hour, I need to focus."

Ginny sighed happily. "I'm willing to be late."

A/N: So, this is the last proper chapter. I was going to send them back to the Burrow and show Ginny's birthday and all that, but I don't think I really need to. I suspect I'll write an epilogue or two though; I don't think I'm quite finished with this particular Harry and Ginny. But and the end, I'm very pleased with how everything turned out, and also that I was able to take a hiatus on this story and yet still come back and finish the way I wanted. I have two other longish story plans in the works, and a couple of one-shots and random chapters of things I want to write, but I suspect I'll need a bit of a break first. Take care, everyone!


	20. Epilogue?

A/N: This is not the original epilogue I'd planned for Servant of Death, but reviewer dreameroflife7 wanted to see what would happen if Harry and Ginny ever told her family they'd had sex on the Headmaster's desk, and this is the result, which I think works better than my original plan. Thanks for the prompt! I know it's not exactly what you asked for, but hopefully it's close enough. This was a lot of fun to write. Also, thank you to Melindaleo for making me realize that Lisa Turpin was the perfect under-utilized character - I hope you don't mind that I borrowed her. And also, thank you to FitzDizzyspells for Flourish and Blotts. :)

Recovery took a long time. It also took no time at all. For those few who knew that Voldemort hadn't actually died at the Final Battle but instead three months later, the pain of loss and mourning began anew in the late weeks of summer. Fred's death hurt that much more without concerns of Voldemort looming over the days, and for a while, everyone walked around in a funk, unsure whether to rejoice in their newfound freedom and safety or wallow in memories of those lost.

George, of all people, made the decision for them. It was August 31st and for the first time in many years, not a single Weasley trunk was packed and waiting for King's Cross in the morning. The Ministry - in a prescient and considered move - had realized that returning to Hogwarts could be particularly difficult for some of the oldest students, whether they'd been at the castle the previous year or not. Led by none-other than Percy, plans had been drawn up to allow any incoming 7th year or any student who had missed their 7th year to finish their studies in a condensed manner. The classroom instruction would take place at the Ministry, and nearly two dozen students had signed up, including both Ginny and Hermione. They would be living at Grimmauld Place and traveling to the Ministry every day for lessons. As Ron and Harry would also be living at Grimmauld Place and traveling to the Ministry for Auror training, everyone thought Percy's plan was rather brilliant.

But neither training nor lessons began for another week, and so all of the Weasleys were gathered together at the Burrow at George's invitation, unsure of the reason he'd called them but knowing that no matter what he had planned, at least they'd be able to sleep late to recover the following morning. Molly and Arthur had wisely taken Harry up on his offer to have a long, romantic dinner at Grimmauld Place, courtesy of Kreacher.

George was not alone; Lee and Angelina and, to Harry' surprise, Lisa Turpin, sat with him in the Burrow's sitting room in front of the complicated piece of equipment that they used to broadcast Potterwatch. The last show - as far as Harry knew - had been a long "expose'" on _Why Harry Potter Hates His Birthday_ that had been written in response to rumors that a number of fan clubs were planning trips to London to bring him gifts on July 31. Even without knowing at the time that Voldemort had possessed Kreacher, the thought of dozens of fan-witches descending on or near the places Harry was thought to frequent was unnerving. Harry'd had no doubt that any one of them could have easily become fodder for Voldemort's plans. A heart wrenching story about how his birthday was to be avoided at all costs was the answer, and George and Lee had been glad to oblige. Now it looked like they were ready to broadcast again. George waved his wand for quiet.

"I'm done mourning Fred," he announced without preamble. "It's done nothing but make me - make all of us - miserable, and when we're miserable, we get further and further away from the ideal that Fred and I have always thought the most important to embody." George spoke as if he was giving a speech and Harry had to grin to hear the animation in his tone. He leaned comfortably against Ginny. They were sharing an overstuffed chair, her legs draped across his lap.

"I think we're all in for it," he said under his breath.

"I'd watch everything you put in your mouth from now on," Ginny agreed. Harry snorted.

"I can think of one thing I want to put in my mouth that George better not get anywhere near," he said cheekily. Ginny groaned.

"That's the exact type of comment that's going to get you in trouble," Ginny warned. "Even if George has to Obliviate himself so he doesn't remember that it was me you were talking about going down on."

Harry shuffled in his seat. Just those few words from Ginny and the images they conjured had him suddenly thinking of nothing having to do with her brothers, or Potterwatch, or anything else besides getting her alone as soon as possible. He was still getting used to the idea that they didn't have to rush, or hide, or even make sure they didn't take a single moment together for granted. It was a thought he'd had more than once, before, and he still wasn't used to the idea that it had actually come true. He subtly adjusted himself. Since he had to basically slide his hand under Ginny's bum to do so, he couldn't keep it from her and thus, was not surprised when she wiggled and ground herself into Harry's lap on the pretense of stretching. He bit back a groan and she chuckled softly. Harry hoped that whatever George wanted to tell them would be quick.

George, with the help of Angelina, was turning dials on the broadcasting equipment. He picked up what looked rather like a Muggle-style microphone. "Can everyone hear me?" he said into it, his voice echoing around the room. Ron threw a pillow at him.

"No, not at all, could you speak a little louder?" he said. George made a rude gesture.

"As I said," he continued, putting down the microphone, "I'm done mourning Fred. I'm going to miss him every day of my life, but if I get to the end of that life and happen to run into him, I don't want him to think I've wasted it." He looked around the room, his gaze finally stopping on Harry. "And I'm sure if Fred has anything to say about it, I'll definitely run into him."

Harry gave George the slightest nod. After a moment, George nodded back. "Which is why," he said, waving his arms expansively, "I've got you all here to be the first to hear about the reinvention of Potterwatch. No longer will the program follow the activities of everyone's favorite bolt of lightning, but instead will pursue a much . . . lighter type of programming." He grinned. "Sorry, Harry."

Harry grinned back. "I'm not," he said.

Everyone laughed and George gave a slight bow.

"We haven't worked out all the details, but I can assure you, this is not going to be a show you'll want to miss. We'll have all sorts of human interest stories, extremely useful product reviews, fascinating gossip, you get the idea." He looked at Angelina and Lee. "Did I forget anything?"

"You wanted to announce the name of the new program," said Lee. He had his arm casually around Lisa who seemed rather comfortable to be there.

"That's right," said George. He waved his wand and sparks shot into the air. "We didn't think 'Fredwatch' had quite the same ring to it, so we had to come up with something else," he said. "And my first choice, 'Fucking with Fred' would have earned me a Howler from mum before we even got off the ground. So, tell me what you think." The sparks flew around in a dizzying pattern until they rearranged themselves into words.

_GIVE GOOD FRED_

The letters glowed and popped as the room exploded in laughter. From across the room, Bill called out, "You sure mum won't send a Howler for that too?"

"Merlin, I hope not," said George. He shuddered. "Maybe we don't tell mum and dad about the show."

Angelina leaned over and whispered in George's ear. He nodded, and Angelina quickly left the room. George regained his composure.

"I think you'll all agree that celebrating and honoring Fred's memory is infinitely preferably to moping," he said. There were nods and shouts of agreement. George smiled and looked around at his family. "And I hope I can count on your participation in future episodes? We'll give you each an appropriate alias, of course." He nodded at Fleur. "For example, _Mon Cherie_, you could give advice to the lovelorn, since everything sounds much better with a French accent."

"Or I could teach 'ze best hexes to make an overbearing suitor go away," she suggested sweetly. Bill leaned down and kissed her head. "Don't underestimate her," he warned his brother.

George held up his hands in surrender. "I promise," he said. "Ahh, Angelina! Just in time!"

Angelina came back into the room levitating a number of bottles in front of her. Lee waved his wand and a large parchment scoreboard shot out the end of his wand.

Ginny leaned into Harry. "I think our vow not to eat or drink anything George gives us is about to be tested," she said.

"I think I need to start carrying around a Bezoar with me at all times," he whispered back.

George had apparently coached Angelina and Lee ahead of time. She was setting up the bottles in a row along a makeshift bar with a flourish while Lee and Lisa shot spells at the parchment in time with Angelina's actions - a bottle lined up and its name appeared on the scoresheet. _Volcanic Ash, DragonFyre, Sunspot, Burning Head, and Fade to Black _were apparently the names of popular craft Firewhiskeys, which everyone would be sampling and ranking.

"I have no commercial interest in the results," assured George, who was now passing out stacks of small cups. "Although the producer of Burning Head Whiskey has reached out about a possible future collaboration, so keep that in mind." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, and we'll need to add in tastes of Ogden's, as a control, of course."

"Of course," said Charlie dryly from across the room. "I've had the DragonFyre before and all I can say is, watch out." He held up one arm, on which a rather elaborate bright blue dragon was tattooed. "Got this on a dare after a night of DragonFyre," he said, shaking his head.

"What's wrong with it?" asked Percy. "You have plenty of dragon tattoos."

Charlie grimaced. "It's a Siberian Icebreaker," he said. "And umm, it's the Patronus of a umm, _colleague_ of mine. Who dared me to get it, after we got drunk and umm . . ." He let the sentence drift off as a flush rose on his neck.

"After you what, Charlie?" asked Ginny sweetly. "Because I seem to remember you giving me a long lecture about the dangers of making rash decisions under the influence of alcohol, especially when trying to impress a member of the opposite sex." She sat back against Harry looking pleased.

Charlie swiped his hand across his face. "As you should," he muttered. "Which means no DragonFyre for you tonight."

"I promise not to dare Ginny to get a tattoo," said Harry with a laugh. Truth was, the thought of getting just a little drunk with Ginny was intriguing. He'd heard it could lower inhibitions, and even though he wouldn't consider either himself or his girlfriend particularly inhibited to begin with, he was curious to see what a couple of drinks might do. Ginny seemed to be following the same train of thought.

"Try to grab the DragonFyre first," she whispered.

George began tapping the bottles to pop the tops off when there was a shout from across the room.

"Whoa, wait a goblin's minute," said Bill. He gently extracted himself from underneath Fleur and stood up. "Do you really expect any of us to drink something you're offering? I don't think there's a person in this room who hasn't fallen victim to one or another of your tricks in the past." Bill looked around. "Show of hands, who's grown an extra limb or been forced to dance instead of walk, or the like, because of something the twins did?"

Harry noted that no one grew distressed over the mention of _the twins_. Instead, there were a lot of indignant comments and muttering as everyone in the room - even Fleur - raised their hand. Bill gave Harry a searching look. "How've you escaped so far?" he asked.

"Ahh, Harry's a special case," said George quickly. "We uhh, we thought he had enough on his plate already, and didn't need to be eating off ours too, so to speak." George very carefully didn't look at Harry.

For his part, Harry was pretty sure that the fact he'd given the twins his Tri-wizard winnings all those years ago would be a nonissue now. Still, if it kept George from pranking him . . .

"So that means Harry needs to be doubly careful now, doesn't it?" smirked Charlie. "Maybe he should taste each one first, just to try it out."

"I promise, there's no funny business in these bottles," said George. "I need to keep you all around for future episodes, after all."

Bill insisted on performing a complicated series of tests on the bottles anyway, and only after he'd deemed them all safe did the pouring commence.

Very quickly, Harry decided that George's plan was absolutely _brilliant_. Ginny had succeeded in grabbing the DragonFyre first, and Harry was pleased at how smoothly it went down and created a pool of heat in his belly. "Better take a second drink of this one, to be sure," he said. On his lap, Ginny was humming in contentment as she held out her glass for a second shot. Suddenly, Charlie was looming over them.

"I told you that one's dangerous," he said, grabbing it out of the air. "It's so silky you can drink half the bottle before you even realize it." He held up the bottle and peered at it. "As it appears the two of you did."

Harry grinned. "Just two shots," he said. "I think."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you two can take care of each other later," he said.

Harry decided he didn't like the Sunspot as much as the DragonFyre, but that the Burning Head was quite brilliant, especially the way it made Ginny's hair glow like a sunset. He was pouring a glass of Volcanic Ash - which was rather disconcertingly black and cloudy - when Ginny leaned her head down and began kissing his neck. Her hands traveled down his chest and began fiddling with his belt before Harry realized this might be problematic. He reluctantly moved her hand away.

She gave him a quizzical look. "I thought you liked it when I put my hands _inside_," she said in a rather loud whisper. She accepted the glass of Volcanic Ask and downed it. "It's only fair," she continued. "I'll put my hands inside first, and then you can put yourself inside me!" She began to giggle as plumes of black smoke came out of her ears, temporarily obscuring the rest of the room.

"Shhhhh," Harry hissed. He knew Ginny probably shouldn't be talking so loud about wanting him inside of her. He lowered his voice. "Brothers," he said, waving his arm towards the figures on various chairs and sofas. He took his shot and grimaced. "That's terrible," he said. "What's left?"

George floated over a bottle of Fade to Black from where he was lounging on the sofa with Angelina. "You and Ginny have sampled all the rest," he said, sounding impressed. "After this one you can rank them."

One of George's hands seemed to be missing, which Harry found confusing. Had he lost it along with his ear? Angelina giggled and swatted at George, and suddenly Harry could see George's hand again. It had been hiding under Angelina's shirt, apparently.

Ginny moved her hand back down again. "My brothers are mostly busy with their girlfriends and wives," she said. This time she put her hand right on Harry's erection and left it there.

Harry was pretty sure there was something wrong with Ginny's theory, but then her hand moved in a way he rather liked and he stopped caring. The room was starting to fill with haze an smoke and so it was getting harder to see anyone else anyway. Harry thought that was a rather good thing. He waved his wand and set some privacy chairs around the chair where they were sitting, and more of the room got blurry. He twisted Ginny in his lap. "I want kiss you, he slurred. It suddenly felt very imperative that he kiss his girlfriend. Ginny nodded.

I want to kiss you too," she said. She handed him a small cup. "George said we have to drink this first. Fade to Black."

Harry felt warm and tingly all over. The smoke from the Volcanic Ask cleared and he could see various couples spread around the room. Ron and Hermione were kissing, and could see that Bill and Fleur were doing rather more than kissing until Fleur waved her wand and a fuzzy curtain went up around them. Lee and Lisa Turpin were no where to be seen and George looked to be very cozy with Angelina on the loveseat even while he kept up a running commentary about the different drinks being sampled. Burning Head was still in the lead and that seemed to make George pleased. Only Percy and Charlie sitting alone. Percy seemed to have gone back to looking over some long document from work and wasn't paying much attention, other than to sip occasionally at a steaming cup in front on him. But Charlie . . .

Harry felt a few cobwebs clear. "Charlie!" he whispered to Ginny. Her hands seemed to be in several places on his body at once and he didn't really want to stop her. She'd gotten inside his trousers this time.

"What about Charlie?" she asked. Her hand wiggled inside the opening in his pants.

Harry hissed. "He's right across the room," Harry said. Ginny's breasts were in his direct line of sight. He shrugged. "I set a ward," he mumbled, dipping his head down. He was feeling very eager to be with Ginny right now. He was always eager, of course, but the whiskey had made him both more aroused than usual and yet mellow about the fact that they were in a room full of Weasleys. He didn't think they'd care about the way his lips were moving on their sister; they knew she was an adult. And he'd vanquished Voldemort, for Merlin's sake. No, Harry couldn't be too concerned about who might be around right now. Not when Ginny's skin was sitting so directly in his line of sight. She made a small sound of satisfaction when his fingers tickled across her chest and Harry's erection twitched. What he really wanted was to pull Ginny directly on top of him to straddle his lap but fortunately, the last few sober brain cell in his head intervened. The floated cup of Fade to Black bumped against his head.

"We should . . . not here," he said. He looked up at the floating cup. "George said we need to drink this. It's th' last one."

"Okay," said Ginny agreeably. She pulled down the cup. "Let's share."

The Fade to Black did, for a concerning moment, make everything go black. Ginny squeaked in surprise and grabbed his hand but before Harry could get too concerned his vision cleared, as did a bit of the alcohol haze in his brain. He opened his eyes to see George watching them intently.

"Did it work?" he asked. "Do you feel just a bit more sober?"

Harry considered that carefully. He still had the same pleasant, light feeling as before, and he definitely still wanted to get naked with Ginny as soon as possible - and his arousal was as insistent as it had been before, but . . . he was now aware that doing any of those things with Ginny needed to wait until they were alone. He carefully straightened her shirt collar and arranged her more carefully in his lap.

"Soon," he said, leaning forward to kiss her.

Ginny's eyes were clear. She looked over at Charlie, who was now frowning at Ron and Hermione, who'd apparently not sampled the last whiskey yet. "Definitely," she said.

There was a shout of laughter from the corner of the room. Bill and Fleur and Lee and Lisa were sitting in a circle with a wand spinning between them. It stopped suddenly on Lisa and Bill said something to her that made her turn bright red. After a second, she spoke, and the laughter got even louder. Lisa looked over at them. "Come play truth or dare!" she called. T

Harry looked at Ginny. "Do we dare?" All the rest of the Firewhiskey bottles seemed had congregated in that corner and he thought he'd maybe like another taste of the Burning Head. Vaguely, he knew that playing any sort of drinking game with Ginny's brothers could get him in a lot of trouble but for once, it was the kind of trouble that Harry really didn't mind. Hell, it was practically a right of passage. "And anyway, I still have the Elder Wand," he muttered

Ginny snorted. "Just what do you think is going to happen?" she asked. They got off the chair and went to sit in the widening circle with everyone else. George pointed his wand at Ron and Hermione, who were still wrapped around each other.

"Ouch," said Ron, rubbing the back of his head. "You could have just asked."

"I did," said George with a smirk. "Three times."

Hermione blushed; Ron didn't, but they both came and sat in the circle with everyone else. Harry thought Percy looked rather uncomfortable, and he half expected that he'd get up and make some excuse about needing to go to the office. But after a moment, Percy sighed and sat down.

"Where were we?" asked Lee. "Ah yes, I think it was Bill's turn to spin the wand."

Bill said a spell and threw his wand into the air. It wobbled for a minute and then began spinning wildly before stopping in from of Angelina. The word "Dare" shot out of the end.

"Hmmm," said Bill thoughtfully. "I dare you to . . . take another shot of the DragonFyre."

"I bet you wouldn't dare Ginny to get even more drunk," said Angelina good naturedly. She grabbed the bottle out of the air and took a swig before falling bonelessly against George with a giggle. "I think that's my favorite," she said.

George leaned over and kissed her. "Then it's my favorite too," he said with a laugh.

Ginny elbowed Harry. "They're together!" she said in a rather drunken whisper. "Did you see? He kissed her!"

Harry nodded. "I saw," he agreed. Ginny was leaning against him and he rather liked the feeling of the warm puffs of alcohol-tinged air from her breath. "Sit in my lap," he said in her ear. "Please?"

Ginny giggled. "All my brothers will see," she said.

"Better that they see you in my lap than see what you're going to be hiding," he muttered back.

"Ahhh." Ginny made a sound of understanding and climbed to sit between Harry's legs, grinding her bum into him for good measure. He bit back a groan. "Does this hide enough?" she asked. She wiggled her bum again.

Harry swallowed, wondering exactly how long they had to play this game and where they might go afterwards. He wasn't sure he was sober enough to Apparate them anywhere. Could they manage the Floo to Grimmauld Place? His thoughts were interrupted by a shout. Angelina's spinning wand had finally stopped, and now it was pointing at Percy.

"TRUTH" it proclaimed.

"Oooh, let me think of a good one," said Angelina.

Percy turned bright red.

"She hasn't even asked you a question yet," said Ron. He still had smoke coming out of his ears in small bursts. Next to him, Hermione was starring at the scorecard in a decidedly un-Hermione-ish way. She seemed to be trying to count the various tally marks for the whiskey they'd all sampled. Harry leaned forward.

"Wait until you're sober to figure it out," he advised. "The votes will make more sensh, more _sense_ then."

Herimione nodded vaguely, her eyes still on the parchment, and now Harry elbowed Ginny. "Hermione's pissed," he said in a loud whisper. "I've never seen her like that before."

Ginny giggled. She'd been giggling a lot today and Harry realized how much he liked it. It had a light, carefree sound that he'd never heard before. It was probably because there had been nothing to be carefree about until now. Now there was. Everything was carefree and Harry could listen to Ginny giggle all day long if he wanted. He could make her giggle all day long if he wanted. Although, he considered, he hoped that not everything he did to her made her giggle. Sometimes he wanted her to make that little sigh he liked. Or to groan his name when he touched her a certain way. He'd not want to lose that. The giggling could be at other times.

"I got it!" Angelina was waving her wand around and Harry realized he'd not been paying attention to anything else going on while he daydreamed about the sounds Ginny made. He shook his head to clear it of the image of Ginny with her head thrown back, making that noise she did when he used his mouth on her.

"What?" he asked, rather loudly.

"My idea for Percy's 'truth'" she said. She grinned at Percy. "Tell the truth; what's the most unusual place you've ever had sex?"

Percy turned even more red. "Uhhh," he stuttered.

"And your hand doesn't count, mate," said Charlie with a grin.

"Do you think Percy's even had sex?" Ginny's voice was low in his ear. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "But I don't think the game will let you lie."

Percy was still shuffling in his seat. Bill leaned forward, apparently taking it upon himself as the oldest to smooth things over if it turned out that Percy was still a virgin. "If you haven't . . ." he began. Percy vigorously shook his head.

"No," he said quickly. "It's not that. I have . . . it's just . . ." He took a deep breath. "It wasn't against policy or regulation," he said, giving everyone a piercing stare. "I confirmed that it wasn't prohibited by any regulation it first."

Harry had a sudden image of Percy, stopping in the middle of foreplay with a witch to check some lengthy rulebook before agreeing to continue to the actual intercourse. Ginny snorted quietly. "Figures" she muttered.

"But where was it, Percy?" George leaned forward. "Where was this permissible location to have sex? I may need to put it on my list." George chuckled. "Wait, you're talking about at your flat, right? What did you do, check your lease first to make sure you could get busy somewhere else than the bedroom?"

Percy flicked his wand and one of the floating cups of whiskey upended itself over George's head. Everyone laughed and cheered.

"Good one, Percy," said Ron approvingly.

"Yeah, good one, Percy," said George. He shook his head and little drops of whiskey flew off about the room. "But you still need to answer the question."

Percy looked to the door to the sitting room as if some member of Magical Law Enforcement was standing there waiting to arrest him for having sex somewhere other than in his own bed. He took a deep breath.

"In. . . In a corner of the Atrium at the Ministry. After hours."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Everyone stared at Percy as if they'd never quite seen him before. He stopped blushing and sat up a little straighter.

"Well, the wand says it's true," said Angelina after a moment.

"All right, Percy," said Bill. He glanced shrewdly at Fleur and Harry had the feeling they'd be planning their own after hours trip to the Ministry one of these days. Angelina pointed at Percy.

"You're next," she said.

But Percy shook his head. "Oh no, if I had to tell everyone the most unusual place I've had intercourse, it's only fair that the rest of you do too."

If Percy had thought everyone would object, he was mistaken. Almost everyone in the room began chattering excitedly to each other, couples whispering back and forth. Even Hermione sat up and said something to Ron, who shook his head and responded with something Harry couldn't hear.

Harry squeezed Ginny's hand. "This is going to get me killed, isn't it?" he said, low in her ear.

Ginny shrugged against him and the way her body moved made Harry wonder if he should just push off the repercussions until later and grab Ginny away to Grimmauld Place now. His alcohol-addled brain couldn't remember whether and which of Ginny's brothers even knew they were having sex, and he wasn't sure he wanted to figure that out right now. But then Percy waved his wand and a dark blue ring circled the room. "No one can leave until they answer," he announced.

Harry had thought until that moment that he liked this new Percy. Now his heart dropped somewhere into the vicinity of his stomach. "I'm sorry," he whispered to Ginny. "I have a feeling that after tonight I'm not going to have the capacity to have sex with you ever again."

Ginny giggled, but this time Harry couldn't enjoy the sound. "You worry too much about my brothers," she said. "I think you're more scared of them than you ever were of Voldemort."

"There was only one Voldemort," pointed out Harry. "And he really didn't care who I had sex with."

Ginny giggled again. "I promise I won't let any of them do any permanent damage," she said, leaning in to kiss him.

"I'm not too happy about temporary damage either," muttered Harry. But it was too late. Percy seemed to have decided that having gone first answering the question gave him authority to be master of ceremonies. Harry almost expected him to pull out a parchment and new scoresheet to keep track of everyone's activities that would eventually become part of some long report about cauldron thickness during sex or something. He groaned.

"I think I'm too sober for this," he told Ginny. "Do you want another shot?" Harry grabbed the bottle of Burning Head.

They each took another small sip of the Firewhiskey, just enough to renew the warmth in Harry's belly and the pleasant buzz in his head. Percy waved his wand. "Angelina, since this is all your fault anyway, you get to go first. Where's the strangest place you've ever had sex?"

No one in the room missed the fact that Angelina's eyes immediately jumped to George. Ginny clapped her hands with delight. "So can you both answer together?" she asked loudly.

George gave a lazy grin. "We can," he said. "Let us confer." He lowered his head close to Angelina's. Apparently she disagreed with his first suggestion and he disagreed with hers. Harry wondered just how many odd place they'd been together when they suddenly shook hands and looked up.

"The 'second back room' of WWW, he announced. "After sampling all the products."

"All of them?" asked Ron. "At the same time?"

Angelina shrugged. "Over the course of the evening," she said nonchalantly.

Harry was impressed. The original back room at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was where the more serious defensive merchandise was kept, like the anti-jinx hats that the Ministry had purchased during the war. The 'second back room' was for sex toys.

Everyone made appreciative noises. "Remind me to talk to you more about your product line later on," said Bill.

Not surprisingly, Charlie's oddest place had been in a dragon's nest. He refused to say who'd he'd been with, and Harry suspected he wasn't the only one who guessed it might be the same witch responsible for Charlie's tattoo.

"We're next!" Lisa Turpin and Lee appeared to have finished an entire bottle of DragonFyre between them. The smoke around their bodies was so thick that Harry could only see their heads, floating above a sea of black. A hand popped up and then disappeared again and Harry was suddenly glad he couldn't see anything else. Lee's head fell sloppily against Lisa's.

"The . . . the . . . at my pub," he said drunkenly. George snorted.

"When did you buy a pub, Jordan?" he asked.

Lee shook his head. "No," he said. "Din't buy it. Ish my name." He and Lisa dissolved into giggles.

"Your, your name!" she sputtered. "The Leeeeeeeee. . ." her voice trailed off and the eyes on her disembodied head closed. Lee nodded vigorously, making Lisa's head bob oddly against his.

"Yeah. The Leeee. Keeee. My pub. Leeeeekeee."

Bill burst into laughter. "You had sex in the Leakey Cauldron?" he asked. "Where? Not Tom's office, I hope."

"Nope," said Lee. "Nope, nope nope." His voice dropped. "We were in the loo. The _witches_ loo. Lisa said isss cleaner in there than the gents." Lee nodded to himself, but it looked more like he was trying to hold his head upright. Bill flicked his wand at Lee and his head fell onto his chest. Another flick and Lisa's did too.

"Better that they both sleep it off," he said. He conjured a blanket and dropped it on top of them. "They won't wake up until tomorrow and we'll have hangover potion brewed by then." He looked around the room and his eyes fell on his youngest brother. "Ron, I think you're up," he said mildly. It was obvious that he expected Ron's answer would be rather mundane.

Ron blushed. "You can't take the mickey," he warned.

George laughed. "Of course we can. This game practically demands it." He leered at Ron and Hermione. "It's okay. The bed is a perfectly okay place to start your sexual experimentation. I'm sure that with some practice, you'll get more adventurous."

"It's not . . ." Ron began. He looked at Hermione. She looked around the room and then sat up straighter, and Harry thought her expression was almost . . . proud.

"Flourish and Blotts," she said briskly. "In the aisle with all the lovely quills and colored inks." She lifted her chin a little higher. "I set the wards."

Bill nodded, impressed. "Not bad," he said to Ron. "Not bad at all. I wouldn't have thought you had it in you."

"Well, to be completely accurate, it was Hermione who had it in her," pointed out Percy briskly.

The room exploded. Hermione turned bright red and buried her head in Ron's chest. Harry chuckled quietly to himself. If anyone was going to be on his side at the end of this, it was going to be Ron, and Harry didn't want to do anything that might get on his bad side. He kissed Ginny lightly. She looked at him in amusement.

"You're saying goodbye, aren't you?" she asked.

Harry nodded solemnly. "I am," he confirmed. "Because by my count, we only have another couple of minutes before the truth comes out that I have defiled the only Weasley daughter, and you will never see me again."

Ginny stroked his hair. "I still thing you're overreacting," she said.

"We'll see," said Harry ominously.

"Ahem. This has all been quite amusing, but let's get serious now." Bill took Fleur's hand. She smiled at him and Harry could have sworn he saw Bill shiver. "Uhh, right," he mumbled. He shook his head. "Right," he said, a little more forcefully. "Pubs and shops and even the Ministry after hours aren't bad, I'll give you all that." He spread his hands wide. "But who else here can say they climaxed in one of the Gringott's carts - while it was moving?"

"And then again in one of 'ze vaults," added Fleur. She reached up and kissed Bill deeply while everyone else cheered and cat-called.

"How did you not fall out?" asked George. "Those carts are fast."

Bill grinned. "It's all about center of gravity," he said with a smirk. He put an arm around his wife. "And on that note, I think it's time to bring the night to a close. Shell Cottage may not be as exciting at Gringott's, but I won't wake up with a crick in my neck." He started leading Fleur out of the room.

Harry couldn't believe he was about to get out of the night unscathed. He grabbed Ginny's hand. "Yeah, let's get going too," he said. "I'm kind of hungry." He turned towards the door and took two steps before a loud crack sent him flying backwards. Ginny grabbed him and just managed to keep him from falling over. "What the . . .?" he began.

Percy cleared his throat. "You umm, you can't leave," he said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "Until you answer the question." It suddenly got very quiet.

Harry didn't look at anyone. Ginny slipped her hand into his and squeezed. "I guess I can't leave either then," she said calmly. "And may I remind you, Harry destroyed Voldemort."

"I think that's old news," he muttered to her. He looked around the circle. Most of Ginny's brothers were looking anywhere but at her and Harry, but he sensed their curiosity, despite themselves. Even Bill looked more indulgent than indignant, Harry thought.

And Bill spoke. "I suppose Harry's status as vanquisher of Voldemort did entitle him to a _particularly nice_ reward." The man grimaced. "And Ginny came of age two weeks ago, so . . ." He shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with starting in a bed," he said in a placating voice. "Just tell us what room it was and that should be enough to break the spell. I assume it was at Grimmauld Place?"

Harry gulped. Bill assumed Harry and Ginny had had sex for the first time on her birthday, in one of the beds there. For a second, panic rose up - the containment spell wouldn't allow them to lie - but then he caught sight of Bill's face. The man had the same indulgent expression from before; it might have even been a tiny bit patronizing. And he and Fleur had bragged about the Gringott's cart, as if there was no question they'd been in the most unusual place of everyone. He squeezed Ginny's hand and looked at her. Her eyes were bright with mischief as she nodded at him. "You tell them," she said with a grin.

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to look around the room. "Yes, the beds at Grimmauld Place are rather nice," he admitted. He smirked. "As is the shower." Someone - maybe Charlie - barked a laugh. "But I bet none of the rest of you have had sex on the Headmaster's desk at Hogwarts."

"Immediately after escaping Voldemort," Ginny added.

The silence in the room was deafening. Around them, the blue of the containment spell fizzled away and red sparks shot out of Percy's wand and formed the word "Winner" over Harry and Ginny's head. Harry wasn't sure whether to be proud to have beaten everyone, or terrified.

Ron spoke first.

"Was that the day . . ." he began. He shook his head. "No wonder it took you two so long to get back!" He didn't seem particularly concerned, but then, Harry was pretty sure that Ron had already known that Harry and Ginny had become intimate.

"Ahh yes, desks are very sexy," interrupted Fleur. "You can pretend to be student and professor, non?"

"No," said Harry quickly, thanking Merlin that he and Ginny hadn't decided to role play; that would have likely pushed everyone over the edge. "We didn't. Do anything like that."

Fleur shrugged. "You should," she said. "Next time."

"What about the portraits?" Angelina asked. She was looking at Harry as if she couldn't believe he was the same person as the little first year she'd met at Quidditch. Harry blushed. "Most of them had gone off to search the castle, but a few . . . came back."

George whistled. "Wicked," he said. "That gives me so many ideas for new products for the second back room." He looked at Angelina. "We are going to have some practicing to do."

Bill had been completely quiet, staring at Harry and Ginny as if he had no idea what to make of them. Harry wished the flashing 'Winner' wasn't still rotating over their heads. He put his arm around Ginny.

"I'm completely in love with her," he said, trying not to sound defensive.

Bill's mouth quirked. "I know," he said "I never questioned that. I just . . ." He shook his head. "Damn. The Headmaster's desk?" He looked impressed.

The last traces of Harry's nerves evaporated. "I assume you don't want to know where the second and third place locations are?" he asked cheekily.

Bill laughed. "I think from now on, everyone should agree to keep this sort of information to themselves," he said.

"At least until I have more Firewhiskey to sample," said George solemnly. He shot purple sparks out of his wand. "I nearby declare the first meeting of _Give Good Fred_ a success. I think we have plenty of good material for our broadcast."

"As long as you don't tell anyone where Ginny and Harry had sex," said Charlie with a laugh. "Next thing you know, couples will start trying to break into the school to recreate the scene."

Everyone laughed and Harry finally felt safe enough to start walking out of the room again. He took Ginny's hand. "Want to make love in an ordinary bed?" he murmured against her hair. "And then take a long nap before we wake up and do it again?"

"As long as my parents are gone from Grimmauld Place," she replied. "You did tell Kreacher to make sure they stayed on the main floor, didn't you?"

Harry shuddered. "I've learned way too much Weasley sexual history tonight; I definitely don't need to hear about any more." He put his arm around her. "How about we find a nice Muggle hotel somewhere?"

Ginny kissed his cheek. "As long as no one else knows where we're going," she said.


End file.
